


Broken

by VioletGreen



Series: You belong to me. [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Broken, Dark John, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Pain, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletGreen/pseuds/VioletGreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been nearly six months sense all the mess with Moriarty passed. John worked through it or at least believed he worked through most of his emotional turmoil and was back at Baker Street. However, he still kept his distance from Sherlock; things were slowly getting better with each passing day though. Sherlock was well enough to give the doctor the space he needed but he was always there if John needed him. </p><p>So, things were starting to look up for the two of them. That was until Mycroft and Lestrade came to them about a case that required Sherlock to go visit an inmate. It seemed Sherlock was the only one the criminal would speak with. So, after some debate Sherlock, John and Greg end up at the prison. Little do they know the true reason they are there until there is a prison break which traps the three of them inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you enjoy my story.

It was early morning when Sherlock played his violin while John sat in his chair reading a book. It felt like old times in that moment. Even though Sherlock’s mind was racing with questions about what John had been up to for the past six months. Sure Mycroft would try to keep an eye out on the doctor but John always gave his men the slip. John knew how the Holmes brothers worked and was the only one that could out maneuver them. It also helped that John was an ex-soldier so he knew a lot more tricks on dodging someone who was following him. When John didn’t want to be found they finally let him be. Then just a couple weeks ago John turned up at the front door of 221B and Sherlock greeted him with a hug. 

Now, he stood playing a lovely melody that he’d written for John. It was beautiful and he watched John’s face as the pulled the bow back and forth over the strings. John was smiling and it was a beautiful sight for Sherlock to see. He really did miss his blogger. 

However, the mood didn’t last long as they heard two different sets of footsteps walking up the stairs and in entered Mycroft and Lestrade.   
John placed his book down on his little side table and stood, greeting Lestrade with a hug as the two brothers watched the exchange. “It’s good to see you, Greg,” John said pulling back slightly. 

Lestrade’s smile was genuine towards the doctor. He was happy to have John back and told him just. “And it is good to see you as well, John. You’re looking fit.” 

John smiled as he replied, “Well, I had worked out a lot when I was a way.” 

Sherlock wanted to know what that meant and why. Why would John need to work out? What had he’d been up to for the past 6 months they weren’t together? Why couldn’t John include him? There was so much he wanted John to answer for but he knew he couldn’t push John into talking about it. Instead he rolled his eyes and asked irritatingly, “Now, that’s out of the way, what are you doing here?” He glared at his brother as he watched Mycroft headed over to Sherlock’s chair, swaying his umbrella in hand, and sat down. 

“Why do you think every time we show up here we want something from you?” Mycroft asked lazily, taping tip of his umbrella on the floor.  
“Because that is usually how this works,” Sherlock growled as he placed his violin back into his case. He turned back and saw John staring at him. There was something surreal about the way John looked at him and it sent a shiver down his spine. It seemed something snapped John back, blinking rapidly until his expression changed to being more relaxed. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John turned and headed into the kitchen. It hurt Sherlock not knowing what to do for John. But, now wasn’t the time to talk to him with his brother in his flat. So, he looked back at his brother and snapped, “Whatever it is the answer is no.” 

“Sherlock, please just hear him out,” Lestrade begged. It was annoying to him how much of a pompous arsehole Sherlock was being right now. It was important, why they were there so he hoped Sherlock would realize that. 

Sherlock turned and glared at him. “Of course, I should have known you’d take his side now, Graham.” 

“It’s Greg,” Lestrade spat fuming. “No more than a moment ago you heard John say my name.” 

“Gregory,” Mycroft murmured softly. 

“Why is this such a hard concept for you to grasp in that enormous brain of yours? You tell everyone that you’re a bloody genius but you still can’t seem to manage to remember my name.” Lestrade was livid. He wanted to slap Sherlock up side his head. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft said sternly, taping his umbrella on the ground to gain Lestrade attention. 

“What?” Lestrade looked over at Mycroft who didn’t look pleased with this outburst. Lestrade took a couple deep breathes before he said to Mycroft, “Fine but you owe me.” 

“Fair enough,” Mycroft replied, watching as Lestrade turned and walked into the kitchen to hopefully keep John company. He then switched his gaze over to Sherlock who sat down in John’s chair across from him. “Sherlock, you need to be more considerate about Gregory’s feelings. After all he will soon be your brother-in-law.” 

Sherlock crossed his arms, slumping more into John’s chair. He smirked slightly at the corner of his mouth at the smell of John’s scent on the chair and snuggled more into it. 

“Sherlock, are you listening to me?” Mycroft huffed. 

“How can I not?” Sherlock muttered. “You keep flapping that fat lip of yours. By the way, how’s your diet going?” 

Mycroft sighed. “Honestly, Sherlock. You can be so childish at times.” 

“I wasn’t the one trying to gain mummy’s approval about a certain DI,” Sherlock scowled. 

Mycroft gave Sherlock a pointed look. “Let’s not dip our hands into this old trivial nonsense, Sherlock. When there are more impressing matters to discuss.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Tell me, brother mine, why are you here? What is the purpose of this so called visit that is so damn important?” 

“I’m here because we’ve hit a snag on a case and…” started to say but Sherlock interrupted him.

“And you need my help in order to solve it for you. Typical, Mycroft,” Sherlock huffed. “Always beating around the bush instead of getting right to the point.” 

Suddenly John and Lestrade were back in the room and handing them a cup of tea. “Why don’t you two stop bickering like little school girls and tell us about the case?” John stated firmly. 

It was a first time in while that John had any interest in a case, which made Sherlock thrilled for the idea even if he didn’t want to say it out loud. 

“Very well,” Mycroft agreed, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. “We came across some highly classified information that we just learned was altered.” 

“For God sake’s, Mycroft, get to the point,” Sherlock spat out. 

“We found out that someone in the prison knows about the top secret government information about a certain special task force of a group of men who were deployed to destroy the enemy base back in 2007. Only something went horribly wrong,” Mycroft explained, his gaze shifting to John. 

John gasped and all eyes turned towards him. “Oh, Christ,” he whispered, hand covering his mouth. 

“John, what is it?” Sherlock stood and faced John. 

However, John wasn’t looking at Sherlock. He was looking at Mycroft. “Someone gave us missed information. We had no idea.” 

Mycroft slowly stood, while leaning on his umbrella. “I know, John. You were ill-advised by your superiors at the time. No one blames you for what happened.” 

“But, I blame myself,” John spat out. “I was there. I could have done something to…to stop it.” 

Mycroft shook his head. “There was nothing you could have done.” 

“Can someone please enlighten me on what the bloody hell is going on,” Sherlock demanded as he took a step closer to John. “Please,” he added, his voice softer as he directed it at John. 

John let out a sigh, running a hand over his face as he said, “We thought it was an enemy base but come to find out when we got there it was a small village full of farmers and their families. When we realized our mistake we were about to leave when the enemy showed up and the villagers were met in the cross fires. We had no choice but to fight. So many people died and we still don’t know who it was that sent us there.” 

“Until now,” Mycroft informed him, pulling out a file from his jacket and holding it out towards John. 

John looked down at it and back up at Mycroft. It was the moment that changed his life forever. The moment he’d been shot by the enemy and discharged to spend the rest of his days with a high functioning sociopath that liked to solve crimes as an alternative to get high. That was his life now and he thought he was able to leave all the rest of it behind. Now, he realized how wrong he was. He reached out with his left hand slightly shaking and took the file from Mycroft. Sherlock moved to stand beside him and for a moment John was unsure if he wanted Sherlock to see what was inside. However, they were doing so well up until this point so he didn’t want to shut him out. So, with a heavy sigh John opened the file and gasped. The man that took everything from him and helped destroy who he wants was. It was surreal but there is was. How could he have been so damn blind to see it? 

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft with a mixture of hatred and bewilderment. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” 

Mycroft gave him a stern look. “Does it look as though I’m joking?” Mycroft replied huskily. 

“This makes no sense,” Sherlock said, taking the file from John’s hands. He scanned over it like a processor scanning and downloading data. When he was finished he held it up and snapped, “How is this even possible?” 

“We’re not sure but there is a man that would like to speak with you about it,” Mycroft informed him. 

“At this prison you want me to attend?” Sherlock questioned. “Fine, let’s go.” 

“Don’t you dare,” John murmured softly. 

All eyes turned to the doctor. 

John gave Sherlock a pointed look. “You’re not going.” 

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “But, John I…” 

“DAMN IT!” John shouted, startling them. He pointed his finger and Sherlock and spat out, “This has nothing to do with you. What happened back then is something I’ve tried to forget. But, my nightmares…they never let me. It was troop. I was responsible for everything that happened that day. It was my fault. So, if anyone is going. It should be me.” 

“John, he doesn’t want to talk to you. He wants to talk to Sherlock,” Mycroft informed him. 

“Who?” John snapped. “Who is this person that would rather talk to Sherlock over me seeing as this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me?” 

“Sebastian Moran,” Mycroft replied. 

John’s eyes widened. He looked from Mycroft to Sherlock. After everything that happened to the two of them it wasn’t but a few days ago that both men told the other of what happened while Moriarty held them captive. Now, old feelings started to stir within John. Feelings about wanting Moriarty to rip him apart, to use him and abuse him like he so secretly longed for. 

Just then Sherlock placed a hand on John’s shoulder, bring him back to reality. “John, I don’t think it’s in our best interest that you accompany me.” 

John looked away from him and down at the file. The man’s face stared back at him with a smile on his face. John wanted to shred the picture but he knew that would only confirm for the Holmes brothers that he couldn’t handle this. No, he had to go. He had so many questions that needed answers to. This would be the only time he could get them. “Fuck that, I’m coming with you,” John growled. “I don’t trust him and I want to make sure you’re safe.” 

“Well, I was going to be with him,” Lestrade spoke up. “We thought it best you didn’t come, John.” 

John looked angry and hurt. He could control himself. Really, he could. “Well, you thought wrong.” He turned to Mycroft and said, “I’m going.” 

Mycroft studied him a moment before he a curt nod. “Very well, John. If you insist I cannot stop you but do let Sherlock take the lead on this one.” 

John looked irritated but nodded. “Fine,” he replied as he walked towards. He pulled on his jacket, walked down the stairs and out the door.

Lestrade followed John out the door to try and comfort him while the brothers stayed behind for a moment. 

“Do keep an eye on him, brother dear,” Mycroft said softly. 

“Don’t worry, Mycroft. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Lestrade,” Sherlock replied as he headed for the door. He was stopped when Mycroft grabbed onto his arm to stop him. 

“Sherlock, I’m talking about John. You mustiest let Moran get to him or John won’t come back from this,” Mycroft insisted, sounding sincerer.   
Sherlock pulled his arm away from his brother and spat, “Who are you to tell me how John is feeling? I know how he is “feeling,” Mycroft. He is my John after all. I don’t need you to tell me what I already know.” 

“Sherlock, stop this childish nonsense,” Mycroft snapped. Sherlock finally looked at him and there was silence for a moment as the two brothers just stared at one another. Finally Mycroft said, “Just make sure he doesn’t do something irrational.” 

Sherlock wondered if he could do something to Moran himself. After all Moran did rape and torture a woman and then he tortured him. He wanted nothing more than to break Moran’s face but he would need to get the information he required first before he made it so that Moran could never speak again. “Don’t worry, brother mine, I’ll make sure John is well looked after. Now, if you’ll excuse me. They are waiting for me.” Sherlock pulled out of his brother’s grip and walked out the door to find Lestrade and John by the DI’s car. Lestrade was smoking and Sherlock had the urge to steal a drag from it but with John there he decided against it. “Let’s go.” 

Lestrade got into the drive seat, Sherlock got into the passenger seat and John slipped into the back of the car and drove off towards HMP Prison Wakefield which was located in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, England.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted dark. Well, here is dark for you and what I have in store will only get darker from here. This is my warning. Enjoy.

When they arrived a few hours later at the HMP Prison Wakefield, it was all John could do not to have panic attack. The place was huge. It was gated with 10 feet of chained fence with barb wire lining the top. The building itself had bars on every window to make it look confined. John wasn’t for sure he could do this until Sherlock reached out and took his hand in his own. “You’re going to fine, John. We are here and we’re not going anywhere.” He gave John’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. 

As the car came to a stop and they got out they were greeted by the Correctional Officer Ryan Stafford. He was about Lestrade’s height with salt and pepper hair, a five clock shadow and his suit looked liked he’d slept in it the previous night before. There were bags under the blue of his eyes like he had not slept a wink. 

“Gregory Lestrade, it has been a little while, hasn’t it?” Stafford asked, offering his hand for Lestrade to take. 

“Indeed, it has been, yes,” Lestrade countered as he took Stafford’s hand and shook it. When he pulled his hand back he said, “This is Doctor John Watson and this is Detective Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Yes, of course,” Stafford said as he reached out his hand for Sherlock to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” When Sherlock did not show any signs of complying John reached out and shook the man’s hand. 

“And we’ve heard a lot about you as well, Mr. Stafford,” John said, glaring at Sherlock. 

“Ryan, please,” Stafford corrected him. “It’s the least I can do. I read your blog Doctor Watson. It is very insightful.” 

John smiled at that. “You can call me John.” 

Sherlock was getting rather bored with the exchanged and huffed, “So, if you don’t mind showing us to our criminal so we can get what we came for and then leave.” 

Stafford nodded and gestured with his hand towards the building and said, “Alright then. Right this way, gentlemen.” 

They followed Stafford into the building and down a long narrow hall. One of the guards stopped them and Lestrade handed over his gun even though he didn’t want to. John was thankful that they let them hold onto their phones. At least that was something. When they passed through a heavy glass door Stafford escorted them into a room with glass windows for walls. It was so anyone could see inside and take attention if necessary. 

“It will only take a few minutes. In the meantime I’ll be just down the hall,” Stafford assured them. 

“Thank you, Ryan,” Lestrade said with a curt nod. 

“Anytime, Greg,” Stafford smiled at him before he left room and disappeared from sight. 

John was standing beside Lestrade as both men watched Sherlock touching around on the glass. “What are you doing?” John asked curiously. 

“Checking on what time of resistances this is,” Sherlock replied as he continued to study the glass. 

“It’s bulletproof glass, Sherlock. There is nothing more to know about it,” Lestrade huffed out. 

Sherlock turned and stared at him, brow wrinkling as he said, “Bullet resistance not glass.” 

“What?” Lestrade asked seemingly confused. 

Sherlock sighed. “It is a common mistake that people refer to it as bulletproof glass but in reality is not correct. It is bullet resistant and this type I do believe is polycarbonate.” 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Lestrade huffed out. He was really starting to get annoyed and wished the killer would show up soon. Anything was better than listening to Sherlock going on about glass. 

“It means, Detective Inspector, that what it is a versatile, soft plastic with unbeatable strength. In other words nothing is getting in or out.” Sherlock looked back at the window and said, “It really is fascinating how it can catch a bullet and absorbs its energy, preventing it from exiting out the other side. Most others just repel the bullet.” 

“Nerd,” John said teasingly, smiling when Sherlock looked up at him slightly baffled. 

Lestrade smiled and took a picture, laughing as he said, “Oi, that was a good one.” 

Sherlock smirked at John, taking two long strides before he was standing before doctor. “You’re impossible, Doctor Watson.” 

“Elementary, my dear Holmes,” John replied as slowly closed his eyes as Sherlock leaned into him. They were about to kiss when a siren started to sound and the lighted turned to red flashing ones. The door slammed shut, trapping the three inside. 

Lestrade and John rushed over to the door but it would not budge. “What the bloody hell is going on?” John snapped, looking over at Sherlock. But Sherlock was ignoring him. “Damn it, Sherlock, answer me.” 

Sherlock stopped and looked at John. “It’s a prison break, John,” Sherlock replied as he went back to looking out the glass. It was concerning because there was no guards or criminals in sight. Not yet anyway but he knew very soon someone would come along and discover them. It was only a matter of time. 

“So, what the fuck are we supposed to do? Just sit here and wait until they find us?” Lestrade said panicky. 

Sherlock turned to them again and said, “They can’t get in here. The door was magnetically sealed. Only a button from the control room can open and close it.” 

“Great, so we really are stuck in here?” Lestrade grumbled. “Fan-freaking-taskic!” 

“Not at all,” Sherlock said as he pointed up to the camera in the corner of the room. “They can see us in here, which means we are safe for the time being.” 

“Sherlock, if they can’t get in here that does mean we are safe, right?” John asked. 

Sherlock looked back at him and even though he didn’t want to tell John the truth he knew the doctor didn’t want him to sugar coat anything. “In a lightly scenario like this either something will open that door or we will starve death. There is no food or water in here so most likely we’ll die.” 

“Or you could open the door,” a voice said from behind the shadows. They turned to see Sebastian Moran walking up to the glass. His hard was blonde, cut short military style. He wore a forest green jump suit and shoes with no laces. 

“That’s never going to happen,” Sherlock spat out. 

“Oh, but I think I can change your mind or rather theirs,” Moran smirked as he looked over at John. “You have questions, Captain, and I have the answers to them. Why don’t you open the door so we can talk it over a nice cup of tea?” 

“Piss off,” John snarled. “Nothing you can say will make us open that door.” 

“Then my answers already cross your minds.” 

Lestrade, John and Sherlock looked at each other before they slowly looked over to see none other than James Moriarty. He looked the same with his hair slicked back, eyes wide and wild like and the manic grin on his face. The only difference was the same kind of jumper that matched Moran’s. 

Sherlock reached into his pocket and began to feel around the numbers on his phone. He memorized how to call Mycroft if ever a situation arose that he could not speak into his phone direct. This would be the next best thing or so he hoped. 

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant and unexpected surprise,” Moriarty cooed as he casual strolled along the glass with his hands in his pockets. “I feel shark circling an underwater cage.” He turned and looked at Sherlock. “Are you drowning yet?” 

“I should’ve known this was a trap. It has your foal stench all over it,” Sherlock sneered, taking a step closer towards John. 

Moriarty walked until he stood at the door of the glass. Was looking admiring it weather than looking at them. “And yet here you are. Tell me, Sherlock. How does it feel to be outwitted again by me?” 

Sherlock took a step towards the door. “Who said you outwitted me when we’re still in here?” 

Moriarty smiled like he had a secret that no one knew about. “Oh, but that could be easily changed.” He turned and looked at Moran. “Open it.” 

Moran walked over to the door and tried to pull on it but it wouldn’t budge. He looked around for something to pry it open with but it seemed it was hopeless. “Sir, it…it won’t open.” 

Moriarty glared at him and snapped, “Find a way.” 

Sherlock was the one smiling now when Moran rushed off. “It seems you’ve lost, Jim.” 

“On the contrary, Sherlock, I’ve only begun,” Moriarty hissed as he turned his attention then to John. “Hello there, Johnny boy. Did you miss me?”

“Go to hell, Jim,” John snapped, turning his back on Moriarty. 

“Ah, but you’re still using my first name. That’s good. It means I got to you, didn’t I?” Moriarty asked as he started to stroll around the glass room. “Do you remember the pretty little melody, Johnny? Has it been stuck it that beautiful mind of yours? I’ve thought of nothing else, dreamt of nothing else but you. My dear sweet Johnny boy.” Moriarty started to hum before the words sprang from his lips like an angel. 

_Even Lucifer was an angel once._

“Shut up,” John snarled, hands balling into fists at his side as he stared daggers at the master criminal. 

“Oh, but this is to lovely, isn’t it? You’re morbid curiosity got the better of you,” Moriarty purred as he continued to stroll. “I wonder if you even remember our song, Johnny.” 

“SHUT UP!” John shouted at the criminal.

That made Moriarty stop and face the glass. His smile was directed at John as he started to sing. “Stars shining bright above you; Night breezes seem to whisper, “I love you;” Birds singing in the sycamore tree; Dream a little of me…”

John turned and cupped his hands over his ears. “NO!” 

Sherlock and Lestrade rushed over to him. “John, tell me what is happening? What can I do?” Sherlock begged, desperate to do something but unsure of what he could do. 

Moriarty was smiling at how effected John was to his voice. It was beautiful sight. “Say, “Nighty-night,” and kiss me; Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me; While I’m alone and blue as can be; Dream a little dream of me…” 

John dropped to his knees and gripped his stomach. “Please, stop!” John whimpered as his body started to shake. He wasn’t for sure of what was happening. Why was Moriarty’s voice doing this to him? What the hell could be happening to him? 

“Stars fading, but I linger on, dear; Still craving your kiss,” Moriarty sang and he leaned closer to the glass. “I’m longing to linger until dawn, dear; Just saying this.” He pressed his forehead and his right hand to the glass as he continued to sing. “Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you; Sweet dreams that leave all your worries behind you; But, in your dreams, whatever they be; Dream a little dream of me…” 

John was in a fetal position on the floor. Tears were streaming down his cheek as he hugged himself tightly. Something was breaking him inside. All the things he tried so hard to forget. The wall he put up was coming down, and it was all due to that fucking song. Every slice from Moriarty’s knife, everything thrust of his cock inside of him, filling him, forcing him to enjoy it and praising him for being such a good boy for Daddy. Then Moriarty forced his cock into John’s mouth and at that point his John’s life he didn’t feel the urge to fight back. He wasn’t for sure if it was because of everything Moriarty did to him and he was too tired or if he decided to give in because it was the easiest thing to do. Whatever the case something inside John was breaking and something new was forcing its way to the surface. “Oh, God,” John groaned. 

“John, tell me please. What do you want me to do?” Sherlock asked helplessly. 

He looked up at Sherlock and Lestrade. Deep down he really didn’t want to hurt them. But with his time away and now hearing Moriarty’s voice again he felt the rage. They had one chance. “Handcuff me,” John begged. 

“What?” Lestrade asked feeling perplexed. 

“DO IT!” John shouted at them. His eyes finally met Sherlock’s and in that moment Sherlock understood. 

“Lestrade, give me your handcuffs,” Sherlock said, holding out his hand. 

“Are you metal?” Lestrade spat out. 

“Just do as I say,” Sherlock snapped back at him. 

“You’ve all gone mad,” Lestrade huffed as he pulled out his handcuffs from his holder and handed them over to Sherlock. 

Sherlock took them and placed John’s hands behind his back. Luckily John didn’t fight him as Sherlock latched the metal closed so John couldn’t hurt them or himself. “I’m so sorry, John,” Sherlock whispered. 

“So, am I,” John replied softly. When Sherlock turned him over the detective was startled by the rather alarming erection John was displaying pressing against the front of his trousers. John was smiling up at him. “I’m sorry that I said anything because I could have bent you over the table and fucked your brains out.” 

“What the fuck, John?” Lestrade snapped. 

“Oh, don’t pretend you hadn’t thought about it Greg. I know you wanted to have a three-way sense the moment you knew I was staying with Sherlock. If you like we could even bring Mycroft into the mix. I’m sure he’s a wild one in bed.” John started to laugh. It was not his normal hearty laugh but more high pitch and manic. Almost like Moriarty’s. 

Lestrade grabbed the front of John’s coat and about ready to punch him when Sherlock grabbed onto his arm. “Let go of me, Sherlock.” 

“I’m sorry, Lestrade. But, I can’t let you hurt him,” Sherlock said, twisting Lestrade’s arm behind his back. 

“Damn it, Sherlock. Let go,” Lestrade demanded through gritted teeth. 

“Just stay back from him, alright?” 

“Fine,” Lestrade huffed and Sherlock let him go. The DI moved away from John and tried his best to calm himself down.

Sherlock looked over at John and hissed, “Don’t do that again.” 

“Or what?” John said happily, rubbing his erection against Sherlock leg. “Care to help a bloke out with a little problem? You like solving problems, don’t you, Sherlock?” 

Sherlock closed his eyes and wanted so badly to retreat to his mind palace but he couldn’t. Something was wrong in John’s mind. He had been fine. Everything was getting back to the way it should have been. But, now…now he wasn’t John anymore. Or he wasn’t Sherlock John. Why? That’s when Sherlock pulled away from John and looked at Moriarty who was utterly enjoying the show. “You brain washed him. With that song. It was some kind of trigger within the words.” 

Moriarty started to laugh. “Really, Sherlock, that’s what you’ve come up with? Why must everything be so clever with you? Hmmm? Why must it be a puzzle you think you can solve? Well, darling, I hate to be the one to break it to you but look at him.” 

Sherlock turned and stared at John. His friend’s eyes looked wild just like Moriarty’s. 

“That there was simply me waking the monster from his slumber, Sherlock,” Moriarty mused as he leaned again the glass. “Everyone thinks you and I are so much alike. I never understood that, by the way. I am nothing like you in any sense of the meaning. However, Johnny and I, we are two sides of the same coin. All I had to do was give him a little push.” Moriarty pushed himself off the glass as he laughed.

Sherlock replayed it all now in his mind. He’d never seen the gun being fired. He’d only assume it had been Moran who was trying to shoot him when Jennifer stepped into the way. Now, Sherlock realized it was him the fired the gun. He turned towards John who was smiling a manic grin at him. “You fired that shot. It was you who tried to kill me. Not Moran.” 

“If it wasn’t for Jennifer stepping in with one last act of pulling at my humility I would have,” John sneered. 

“Jesus Christ,” Lestrade grasped, not sure if he was hearing it right. “You tried to kill Sherlock?” 

“Yes, Greg, do try to keep up,” John mocked. 

“So, even back then he broke you,” Sherlock said, trying to put together the remaining questions. “Why come back to Baker Street? Why not try to kill me there?” 

John smiled up at him. “Because I wanted to see if you could see that I changed or if you were blinded by your feelings for me. Which in fact was true because you just wanted me back home. Sherlock, I was raped and tortured by a fucking psychopath. He forced me to enjoy it and to want it. To want him and never did you once consider the John you knew was already dead the moment he stepped out of that room that day.” John looked at him with pity. “How pedestrian of you.” 

Sherlock couldn’t hold back any longer. He shot forward and began to slap John across the face. “This isn’t you! Bring him back. I want my John back.” 

Lestrade shot forward and pulled Sherlock back even though Sherlock struggled to be freed. “Sherlock, for fuck sake, calm down.” 

John was laughing. “John has left the building. And it seems we have another fun game to play.” 

Sherlock and Lestrade turned to see Moran was holding onto a nurse with a scalp pressed to her throat. 

“I know the phone in your pocket has Mycroft on the other end, Sherlock. Tell him to open the door or Sebby here is going to use her as a pin cushion,” Moriarty informed him. 

Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket and placed it to his ear. “Mycroft?” 

“I’ve almost to the prison now. We have the building surrounded so no one is getting out.” 

“Or in,” Sherlock added. “Mycroft, I need you to have them open the door to room...” 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I can’t do that,” Mycroft said sternly. 

“Mycroft, if you don’t open the door then…” 

“Sherlock, listen to me and listen to me closely because I’ll only say this once. There are only three people in this world I truly care about and the three are in that room. If I open the door that means Moriarty wins and John can never be saved. Not to mention there are other inmates free who I’m sure would love to have a go at you and Gregory.” The thought frighten Mycroft more than he cared to admit. “So, the answer is no.” 

“Well, Sherlock,” Moriarty said, “What’s it going to be?” 

“Then her bloods on your hands,” Sherlock growled into the phone. 

“I can live with that if it means you three remain safe from them,” Mycroft replied as the helicopter touched down just outside the prison. 

“Then you’re just as bad as he is,” Sherlock hissed. 

“No, Sherlock, I just put you above all,” Mycroft said before the phone went dead. 

Sherlock looked at his phone and hated that Mycroft didn’t about a young woman’s dying over not opening a door. It was selfish but somewhere in the back of Sherlock’s mind he understood. 

Lestrade walked over to him and said, “Well? What did he say?” 

“Yes, Sherlock, do enlighten the class. What did big brother have to say?” Moriarty mused. “He is going to open the doors and let us play or does Moran get to have a little fun?” 

Sherlock looked up at Lestrade before bowing his head and he shaking it no. “He’s not going to open it.” 

“What?” Lestrade gasped. “Why?” 

“He said our lives are more important than hers,” Sherlock murmured. 

“You know what? He’s right,” Moriarty said as he looked over and Moran, giving him the sign to cut her throat. 

Moran didn’t hesitate. He sliced the scalp hard and deep into the nurse’s throat from one ear to the other before tossing her to the floor like she was a bag of garbage. She bled out within seconds.

“You fucking soulless bastard!” Lestrade shouted as he started to bag on the glass.

Moriarty smiled at Sherlock whose face drained of all color. “Well, perhaps next time you’ll convince him to open the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. You're messages keep me inspired so thank you for posting your wonderful comments below. It means the world to me.

Lestrade watched as Moran dragged the lifeless body of the nurse out of sight. It didn't help much that a trail of blood was left in its wake. He felt like he want to throw up but he swallowed it down and turned away. 

"What's the matter, Greg? You've seen many dead bodies before," John said, staring up at the man as he sat in a chair. 

Lestrade glared at him. "Yes, but seeing that person’s throat slit in front of you is a little different than just coming onto a crime scene of someone who is already dead," Lestrade growled at him. 

John snorted. “Really? Because, that’s not the way I see it.” 

"This…This is madness. You. This isn't you, John. Why are you acting like him?" Lestrade pointed at Moriarty who in returned smiled. 

John looked over and Moriarty before he turned his attention back to Lestrade. "Because his way is much more fun," he said smiling maniacally at Lestrade. 

Lestrade stormed forward and grabbed the labels of John's jacket. He started to shake him as he said, "Snap out of it, damn it." Lestrade pulled his hand back, ready to strike John when Sherlock grabbed hold of his wrist. "Let go, Sherlock." 

"This," Sherlock said, raising Lestrade's hand, "It won't solve anything." 

"I don't care," Lestrade snapped as he looked back at Sherlock. "We have to do something. This isn't him. This is insane.” 

“I know but you must keep your head about you, Lestrade. Don’t let them see how much this is affecting you,” Sherlock said. 

“I’m sorry but I don’t work like that,” Lestrade huffed, pulling out of Sherlock’s grip. “I actually have a heart.” 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the DI. “I see.” 

Lestrade’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. “No, that’s not…I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Then how did you mean to say it, Inspector?” Sherlock asked bitterly. 

“Sherlock, don’t you see. They are trying to pin us against each other. Don’t let them win,” Lestrade pleaded with him. 

“No, Sherlock, please don’t…” John mocked as he started to chuckle. “Pathetic.” 

Lestrade snapped his gaze to John and growled, “Shut the hell up, John!” 

John just laughed. “Come and make me, Greg.” 

Lestrade was about to when he noticed other inmates started to stumble upon the scene. There was about seven or eight of them now and they knew Lestrade and Sherlock and started to walk along the outside of the glass like tigers ready to attack their pry. It made the situation ten times worse and Lestrade hated to admit how right Mycroft had been. If they open the door now then they would be done for.

"Sherlock,” Lestrade whispered to him, unable to hide how panic in his tone. “What are we going to do?” 

“I - I don’t know,” Sherlock replied softly. He was hoping that they could wait them out but something told him that that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Hey, Lestrade,” one of the inmates snapped. 

Lestrade turned towards the voice and saw it was Ricky Remerno. The criminal was built like a tank with a buzz cut and tattoos all over his body. He was a dangerous man who not only was a drug lord but he’d raped eight different women. 

It seemed the prison was filled with rapist. 

Ricky was touching himself as he said, “I’m gonna bend you over, copper, and blow you so hard till you can’t scream no more. Then I'm going to fuck that beautiful throat of yours raw.” He laughed when Lestrade shuddered and turned away. 

“I won’t let that happen, Lestrade,” Sherlock reassured him. 

“How can you be so certain you can protect him when you’re in the same predicament,” John spoke up. Both men turned to him. “You think you’re so clever and that you’ll figure a way out of this, Sherlock, but you won’t. This outcome can only end one way.” 

“Which is what exactly?” Sherlock asked curiously. 

“With my cock being the first to fuck you both,” John said nonchalantly. 

Lestrade’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Surly you don’t mean that, John,” Lestrade asked worriedly. 

“Oh, but I do,” John said with a sinister smile. “I’m going to have you both before anyone else because you two…you belong to me.” 

Sherlock turned his back on John. He’d dreamt of nothing else but having John fuck him. It would have been an amazing night for the two of them. After solving a case, the rush of catching the criminal and returning home, together, it would have been amazing. So for John to say such a thing made Sherlock’s stomach turn. This was madness. _Perhaps my John really is gone,_ Sherlock thought to himself. He didn’t want to believe it but somehow the back of his mind it was replaying that night on a loop over and over again. No matter how painful it all was to think about it all led to one conclusion. It seemed more like that the John Watson he fell in love with, the one he met in Bark’s that day and the man that called him brilliant, was in fact no more. This new John that had taken the place of his John was a war machine. It frightened Sherlock when he realized just how screwed they really were if Mycroft couldn’t figure out something to get them out of there. 

“Well, it seems there is a little wager taking place out here,” Moriarty said as he stepped up to the glass door. 

Sherlock turned his attention from John to Moriarty. “Oh, let me guess. How long we can wait you out?” 

Moriarty smile was sinister. “Surprisingly no,” Moriarty mused. “It’s a race to see if they can rewire the door to open before your brother has a chance to storm the castle.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Who do you think will win? I’m really voting for my team but I do like the suspense.” 

Sherlock’s eyes widened at that. He looked over at Lestrade who seemed just as afraid as he felt. “Lestrade, your phone,” Sherlock demanded. Lestrade took out his phone and handed it over to Sherlock. 

Within moments Mycroft was on the other end. “Oh, thank God, Gregory, are you alright?” 

“Not Lestrade,” Sherlock bit out. “We are in a bit of a situation, brother dear.” 

“Oh?” Mycroft asked, feeling on edge more now than he had before. 

“They are trying to rewire the door to open it before you get your men in here,” Sherlock said, not trying to hide the intensity in his tone. “So, if you could hurry up it would be much appreciated.” 

“We are doing all we can, Sherlock,” Mycroft replied. 

"Not good enough," Sherlock barked back. 

"Sherlock, remain calm," Mycroft said softly. "Don't let them see your desperation. We are doing all we can but they have it locked down tight." 

Sherlock closed his eyes, hating this whole thing. For going in blindly and not seeing it was a trap. "Mycroft..."

“How are the other two?” Mycroft interrupted.

“Well as can be I suppose,” Sherlock said grimly. 

“Don’t give up hope, Sherlock,” Mycroft assured him. 

Sherlock sighed. “Just please hurry up,” Sherlock huffed as he hung up the phone. 

"Does that mean big brother isn't coming?" Moriarty mocked. 

Sherlock glared at the criminal mastermind and hissed, "Shut up." 

"Rude," Moriarty said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, John. What do you ever see in him?" 

Sherlock tried to resist the urge to look at John but he couldn't help it. He turned his gaze and instantly regretted it. 

John was looking Sherlock up and down and his face twisted in disgust. "I really couldn't say, Jim." 

"Come now, Johnny," Moriarty said as his eyes bored into John. "Tell Daddy what attached you to Sherlock? Was it is looks, his voice, his tight little arse?" Moriarty asked, dropping his voice an octave, "What?"

John looked back at Sherlock and felt a surge of energy rush through him. The laughs they shared over a crime scene, John shooting a man for him, running around London and curing his limp and all because a high-functioning sociopath needed a room mate. John let a smile flash across his face at the memories.

But, it faded when Moriarty made himself known once again. "Johnny," the criminal mastermind said sternly. 

“His mind, I suppose,” John said, locking eyes with Sherlock. “I’d never met a man so brilliant and fascinating before. It was astonishing that just by looking at someone he could tell their life story. I was hooked from the start.” 

Sherlock smiled at him as he heart swelled with pride. He’d never got such praise from anyone before in his life. John was truly the first. It made him want to be better and to work harder just to see John smile at him for a job well done. But, John’s gaze turned from his and the moment was gone. “John,” Sherlock whispered softly. He wanted to reach out to John. To say he was sorry but even in his mind he knew it wouldn’t change things. 

“And then come along you,” John said as he looked over at Moriarty. “Turning my world upside down and now it could never be the same. You took it all from me. Everything and I…” John smiled at Moriarty and it looked twisted. “And you’re all I think about now. I want you. I need you. Everything you are, Jim, I just…I want you to fuck me again.” 

All color drained from Lestrade’s face as he stared at John in horror. He knew what happened that day but it no one else knew. He was going to be family so of course Mycroft didn’t want to keep it a secret but this. Lestrade looked over at Sherlock and he looked even more pale than usual. Neither man knew what to say to that. What could they say? 

Moriarty pressed himself against the glass and said, “I want you too, Johnny boy, and soon you will be mine again. I’ll fuck you all night and all day. I’ll put a collar on your and make you crawl to me like the pet you are. Such a good boy for me.” 

Sherlock could see John’s erection straining against his trousers. He was actually getting harder about the mention of Moriarty fucking him senseless. So, Sherlock walked over to John and felt the urge to put him to the test. “What about me, John?” 

John snapped his gaze towards Sherlock, narrowing his eyes at the man he hissed, “What about you?” 

“What if I fucked you? Right here, right now,” Sherlock replied. 

It was John’s turn to look shocked. “What?” 

“It’s not like you can stop me either. You’re bound and unable to fight me. That’s what you like isn’t it?” Sherlock growled at John. However, when John didn’t say anything Sherlock slammed his fist on the table. “Answer me!” 

“Yes!” John spat out, jumping slightly. “Sherlock…” 

Sherlock was desperate to do anything he could to keep John. He didn’t want to lose him to the likes of Moriarty. This was so wrong and Sherlock wasn’t for sure he could follow through with it but he cared about John more. If it was the only way then he would put aside any doubt and just take John like he should have before this mess began. “Shut it, John. Perhaps I should put that mouth of yours to better use.”

“Oh, Christ,” John breathed. 

Suddenly Lestrade pulled Sherlock away from John. “What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your ever fucking mind?” 

“This might be the only way, Lestrade,” Sherlock said. 

“What do you mean by that?” Lestrade asked. 

Sherlock sighed. “Look, Moriarty raped and tortured John and while he did it he forced John to enjoy it. Maybe if I am forceful enough John will start to think differently about Moriarty. I can tell John still has feelings for me. If I don’t do something now then I’ll lose him.” 

“And raping him is the best you can come up with?” Lestrade said panicky. 

“Not the best idea but what choice do I have?” Sherlock asked him. “If you have any better ideas, Lestrade, let’s hear it. Because I, Sherlock Holmes, don’t.” 

Lestrade closed his eyes as he pinched the brim of his nose. He didn’t know what to think or feel. He didn’t want John to suffer anymore than he already had but the doctor did threaten to fuck him and Sherlock when he was freed. As he looked back up at Sherlock he said, “As crazy as it sounds, I think your right. But, can you go through with it?” 

Sherlock looked over at John who was watching him intently before looking back at Lestrade. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. If I don’t we’ll lose him. I’ll lose him and I can’t…I won’t let that happen.” 

Lestrade placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” 

Sherlock nodded before he turned and walked back over to John. He pulled John to his feet out of the chair and placed his hands to John’s belt. He started to undo it, forcing John to struggle slightly in his grip. “Don’t fight me, John,” Sherlock demanded. 

“I don’t belong to you, Sherlock,” John growled. 

“Yes, you do,” Sherlock replied as he removed John’s belt. “You were mine first.” 

John shook his head. “You’re full of shit. I never belonged to you. You were “married to your work” as it were. I never was good enough for you.” 

“Oh, John,” Sherlock said softly. “That wasn’t it at all. I wasn’t good enough for you. You were this amazing man. I saw something in you that I could never have.” 

“Which is what?” John spat out curiously. 

“You were more than just a doctor or soldier. You were a warrior, John. A fighter, a protector, a mercenary for those that couldn’t find justice and I was just the brain to help you find your way. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me. A freak because you were a God so why would someone like you be with someone like me?” 

John just stared at Sherlock. He was at a loss for words. What could he say to him? It was heartwarming and John felt as though his heart was aching inside. “Sherlock, I…I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say you’ll stay with me, John,” Sherlock begged as he looked into John’s eyes. “Say you’re mine.” 

John smiled up at Sherlock and it was like the one when he smiled at him after they ran around London and John realized he wasn’t using a cane. Sherlock helped him then and he was trying to do so now. “Sherlock I…” 

 

Sherlock placed a finger to John’s lips and said, “You don’t have to say it, John. Just know that I lov…” 

"SHERLOCK!" Lestrade shouted. 

Sherlock had no time to react when he was suddenly torn away from John. “NO!” Sherlock screamed as he started to struggle. Large, rough hands were dragging him away from John. “NO! Let go of me. JOHN!” 

John started to kick the man on the right that was holding Sherlock but Moriarty quickly grabbed hold of John and pulled him away. 

“Don’t kill them,” Moriarty called out. 

Sherlock continued to struggle as he was dragged from the glass room and down a hallway. He could hear Lestrade calling out to him but he wasn’t for sure where the DI was. That was until he was brought to a rather large room that looked like the mess hall where the inmates would eat. Sherlock was chained up beside Lestrade. Both men stared at one another, knowing how screwed they were when Moriarty, Moran and John walked into the room. 

“Well, it seems we won,” Moriarty informed them. “Now, I think it is time Johnny got what he wanted.” He looked over at John. “So, who do you want to fuck first, baby?” Moriarty caressed John’s cheek. “And can Daddy join you?” 

John walked over to them. He was looking between Lestrade and Sherlock before he turned to Moriarty and said, “Greg.” He turned back and smiled up at the DI. “I think it’s about time I find out how you look on your back with your legs in the air while screaming my name.” He smiled big. “You’ll be the perfect little pig bitch,” John laughed coldly, savoring the horrifying look on the DI's face. “And I'm going to enjoy every single moment of making you love my cock. Just like I'm sure you dreamed of.” John got closer to Lestrade and murmured. "Care to put it to the test, Gregory, because I'm just hard thinking about it." He grabbed the front of the DI's trousers and said, "Let's have some fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like chapter? Hope so. Let me know if you did. Comments are important to me. Thanks for reading. It means so much to me. You're all awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

At first Lestrade didn't know what to do. He was so stocked and frozen in place because somehow what was happening now didn't seem real. Like this had to be some kind of sick and twisted nightmare that he trying so desperately to wake up from but nothing seemed to be working. So, as John continued to knead him through his trousers the DI finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in and started to struggle. "Get your twisted little hand off of me," Lestrade snarled at John.

"Or what?" John taunted as his other hand joined him, massaging the DI's prick to life. “Don’t you want to play, Greg? You’re cock is reaching out for my attention.” He took a step closer. “Tell me, is Mycroft not satisfying you as well as he should be? It takes a real man to give you want you need and we both know the Iceman isn’t up to the challenge.” 

Lestrade didn’t think before he spat in John’s face. 

John pulled one of his hands away and wiped his face. He looked up at Lestrade and started to chuckled. “So, it’s like that, is it?” John grabbed Lestrade from the back of the head and yanked him done until John’s mouth was on the DI’s throat. He was biting and sucking, marking the DI as his own. 

Lestrade continued to struggle as his anxiety level peaked as he cried, "For fuck sakes, John. Stop this madness. Please.” Lestrade didn’t want to beg but what choice did he have? So he continued pulling on his restraints because, if it wasn't for the fact of not only Moriarty was watching but the bloody whole prison of inmates, Lestrade might not mind John fucking him. But, not like this. Never like this. Not to mention the arousal on the faces of the inmates were astonishing. Most were pedophiles but all of them seemed to be enjoying the DI's misery. 

John pulled back and smiled up at Lestrade. "But, everyone seems to be enjoying the show," John mused as he started to unbutton Lestrade’s trousers. "Let's not disappoint them."

"NO!" Lestrade shouted panicky. He was thrashing now. _This fucking can't be happening,_ he told himself. "John, please don't do this," Lestrade cried. Without hesitation, Lestrade grabbed hold of the chain that bound his wrists and pulled himself up, kicking John in the chest and sending him back into Moriarty. Ricky and Moran charged forward but Sherlock this time copied Lestrade's act of desperation and connected his feet under their jaws, sending the two criminals to fly back onto the ground. 

There were other inmates that started to charge at them but Moriarty stepped between them. "STOP!" 

And everyone did. 

All eyes turned towards Moriarty. The criminal mastermind helped John to his feet and gave him a quick once over. When he saw that the doctor was alright and nothing on him was harmed, he turned, placing his hands in his pockets and slowly walked forward to stand in front of Lestrade. 

Moriarty raised his hand to Lestrade's cheek, causing the DI to flinch back from the serpent's touch. The madman smiled, satisfied by the knee jerk reaction but felt he had to get his point across. So, he snaked his hand back around Greg's neck and gripped a hand full of hair, yanking it back as he growled low, "Do that again and I'll have John skin you." 

Lestrade gritted his teeth as he hissed "He won't do it, you lunatic. " 

Moriarty moved his face closer to Lestrade's. "Care to wager on that, Inspector? Make thing a bit more interesting." 

"Leave him allow, Jim,” Sherlock spat. “He has nothing to do with this.” 

“Really? This again?” Moriarty turned his attention from Lestrade to Sherlock which caused Sherlock to be slightly relieved. “Why must we continue to dance the same tango?” 

“Oh? Do enlighten me,” Sherlock growled low. 

“Because, no matter what I’ve done in my past, they will always pick you,” Moriarty sneered. 

It was like a light bulb switched on in Sherlock’s mind. “Is…Is that what this was all about? Poor little Moriarty, more of a freak than I ever was and never making any friends because he was always too clever for other ordinary children.” 

“Sherlock,” Lestrade said, trying to gain Sherlock’s attention. 

“But, no he was a weirdo, a freak and being such was shunned by all. Even Carl Powers picked on you and bullied you because you were different,” Sherlock said as he continued to ramble on. He heard Lestrade’s voice but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so close to making the criminal mastermind break. “That’s why you killed him. To make him leave you alone but then I came along. Someone that was just a clever as you but with the lack of social skills you didn’t know what to do and by that time you’d already committed your first murder. There was no help for you. So, you kept tabs on me and when you saw what I had you wanted it because you’ve always wanted it. The sad thing is you could never have it. So, you took it from me.” 

“Sherlock,” Lestrade warned. 

But, Sherlock ignored him as he looked over at John then. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it until now. Christ, John, I know it doesn’t make things any better but I love you and I’m sorry.” 

Moriarty stepped between Sherlock and John as he hissed, “You’re correct on all counts but one.” 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Moriarty. “Which is what, exactly?” 

Moriarty leaned in close and whispered so only Sherlock could hear him. “Carl Powers wasn’t my first.” He pulled back and savored the look of surprise on Sherlock’s face. “Now, back to our regular schedule program,” Moriarty said as he looked over at John. “Care to fuck a pig?” 

“John, take me,” Sherlock blurt out. 

“Sherlock, shut up,” Lestrade snapped. 

John smirked as he walked up to Lestrade but he was staring at Sherlock. “Daddy told you to shut up. I think you should listen.” John turned back to Lestrade and started to unbutton his shirt. 

That’s when Sherlock saw it. “Your hand, John,” he whispered. 

John looked at his hand and saw that is was slightly trembling. He glared at Sherlock and growled, “Do me a favor, Sherlock, and shut the hell up before I make you.” 

“But, your hand, John,” Sherlock continued on. “This isn’t you. You don’t want to do this and your hand is proof of it. Please, John, don’t do this. Fight it. Fight him and come back to us. Come back to me.” 

Just then, Moriarty was standing behind John. He looked over the doctor’s shoulder and saw John’s hand was trembling. So, he reached up and took John’s hand in his own. “Tell Daddy what’s wrong, Johnny.” 

John drew in a shuddered breath with Moriarty’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. “I don’t think I can do this…here. With all these men watching.” 

“You don’t have too, darling. We can have him moved to another room where it would be just the three of us,” Moriarty cooed as he kissed the back of John’s neck. “Anything for you, Johnny. You know that.” 

John turned around in Moriarty’s arms to meet his gaze as he said, “How about the four of us?” He watched at the smile stretched across Moriarty’s face. “I want him to watch before I fuck him too.” 

“Oh, Johnny, you are just full of surprises,” Moriarty mused as he leaned forward and captured John’s lips into a passionate kiss.  
Sherlock turned away. He couldn’t stand seeing John kissing Moriarty like that. Not when John was his. _Not your John,_ he heard Mycroft’s voice say in his mind. He shook his head and snapped out of it when he felt hands starting to move him. Sherlock looked over and saw the same thing happening to Lestrade. The inmates were working together and moving them. 

Ricky hand hold of Lestrade and was whispering something into the DI ear that made him turn white as a sheet. Then the man forced Lestrade to sit on the bed and told him to stay like a dog. Sherlock wondered what that could be but he didn’t have time to ask when they were shoved into a room. The two men that held Sherlock forced him down into a corner and made sure his binds were still secure before that walked out of the room. 

Moriarty and John walked in, dismissing Ricky and other inmate before the door was closed behind them. 

In the room was a single bed that was welded to the floor. There were no windows or anything else that could be used a weapon. John didn’t acknowledge Sherlock when he walked over to where Lestrade was forced to sit on the bed. “Lie back on the bed and hands above your head.” 

At first Lestrade didn’t comply. He just sat there glaring up at John. 

That’s when the doctor pulled a pocket knife from his pocket and flicked it open. “It’s either you or Sherlock.” 

Lestrade turned his gaze and met Sherlock’s dark blue green eyes. It was like only he could see something that no one else could. So, he turned back and complied. He scooted back onto the bed and placed his bound hands above his head. 

John moved onto the bed and straddled him. “Do not move your hands. If you do Sherlock pays the price for it. Do you understand?”  
Lestrade nodded. “I understand.” 

“Good,” John said as he moved the knife down towards Lestrade throat. “Do you want to know the best part about being a doctor is, Greg?” 

He placed the blade against Lestrade throat and sliced a little across his throat leaving small trail of blood in its wake. “I know where the best places to cut you without it being lethal but it still can cause a great deal of pain.” 

Lestrade turned his head away and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look up at John. This was not the same man he used to have a pint with and would just talk about nonsense. No, this wasn’t John. He was long dead. 

“Don’t look away from me, Greg,” John said as he used the knife to force Lestrade’s head back towards him. “Look at me.” 

Lestrade really didn’t want to but he felt the blade of the knife press against his neck once again. He swallowed and opened his eyes, insistently regretting it. John’s pupils were blown wide with arousal and wild like a caged animal wanting to be freed. Lestrade finally saw the beast within John, clawing its way out. He started to tremble knowing what was coming next. 

“I own you,” John whispered as he used the knife to cut away Lestrade shirt. “Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding under here. Shall we?” 

John cut and tore the DI’s shirt from his body, exposing Lestrade bare chest to John like a blank canvas ready to paint. “The things I could do to this body,” John purred, running the knife along Lestrade’s sternum. “The things I will do to this body just made me tingle in my special place.” He smiled manically as he dragged the knife up and over Lestrade’s stomach. 

Lestrade did his best to lie still. He didn’t want the knife to cut into his flesh anymore than John already planned on doing to him. But, it was hard. Christ, it was so damn hard to just lie still and take it. He was a cop and yet here was being reduced to nothing. Like he was nothing by a man that use to be his friend. _The world has simply gone mad,_ he thought grimly to himself. 

John lightly moved the blade over Lestrade’s nipple which quickly brought him back to the reality of the situation he found himself in. “Don’t leave me, Greg. Stay with me or I’ll have to play with my other toy.” 

“John, you know you want me more than him,” Sherlock spat off, unable to watch anymore. He’d been quiet until now to think of some way to get freed but with Moriarty in the room and half the prison just outside the door there was no way out of this. But, he could try to pull John’s attention for Lestrade. He wasn’t for sure if it was jealousy or the fact that Lestrade was marrying his brother but Sherlock could not stand the sight of John on top of the DI. Sherlock wanted to do all he could to pull John away from him. “I’d be all yours, John. Anything you wanted to do to me, I’d let you.” 

“Shut up, Sherlock,” Lestrade snapped at him. 

Sherlock ignored him. “John, please. I’ll let you fuck me or I’ll fight you. Whatever you want me to do. I’ll do it.” 

“SHERLOCK, FOR FUCK SAKE, SHUT UP!” Lestrade shouted angrily as tears started to stream down his cheeks. 

John reached up and whipped Lestrade’s tears away with his thumb tenderly. “No, let him speak. Let’s hear how he wants to take your place. How he would rather be fucked by me than to watch me fuck you.” John lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked on it. He smiled when Lestrade looked sickened by the displayed and turned his head away. “What did I say, Greg?” John asked as he slowly drew the blade across Lestrade arm. The DI hissed through gritted teeth as he glared back up at John. “Don’t look away from me again or next time it goes deeper.” 

Lestrade knew it wasn’t an empty threat. If he didn’t comply that John would stab him. He really didn’t want to bleed out in a place like this. Lord, knows what he could catch. “I’m…I’m sorry.” 

“There,” John said as he leaned down and licked the blood away. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Greg looked disgusted but he did not look away. 

John patted his cheek with the knife and praised, “Good boy. Now, let’s remove the rest of this.” John gestured to Lestrade clothing which made the DI swallow out of nervousness. The doctor moved down and began to unfasten Lestrade’s trousers, pulling them off, along with his boxers, shoes and socks. He tossed them carelessly aside before he moved off the bed and started to remove his own clothes. 

_

Slowly Moriarty moved over to Sherlock and was fascinated with how intent Sherlock was watching John. It seemed the Sherlock never had the chance to take John for himself. Moriarty gotten to the doctor before Sherlock could and now Moriarty watched as John looked over at him and smiled. The criminal mastermind smiled back and nodded. John took that as his cue as he climbed back onto the bed and straddled Lestrade. “He’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Moriarty asked, his gaze trained on John’s back but the question was directed at Sherlock who still sat on the floor in the corner of the room. 

“I was so blind to it because all I could think of was having him back,” Sherlock said softly, unable to look away. John was lining himself up with Lestrade entrance and even though Sherlock couldn’t see their faces he could still see the fear in Lestrade body. The way the DI tensed and tried to flinch away. Or the way John was holding himself as he slowly circled Lestrade hole. It was like Sherlock was falling down into a darkness abyss with no hope of ever being rescued. 

“And that was your downfall, Sherlock,” Moriarty whispered. 

“I know,” Sherlock replied grimly. “You planned this with him. All those months he was away you had contact with him to bring us here because you knew my brother wouldn’t be able to reach us. So you…” Sherlock’s voice was cut off when Lestrade let out a blood shattering scream. He started to stand to his feet but Moriarty held a gun to his head. 

“I really wouldn’t,” Moriarty warned him. 

Sherlock settled back down into the corner. He watched in part horror and part fascination of John forcing his prick deep inside Lestrade void. Sherlock should be disgusted at the sight but he loved how John’s toes curled being fully buried inside of the DI. 

“Someone’s liking the show,” Moriarty sang-song. 

Sherlock looked up at the criminal mastermind before looking down at his own trousers. He was surprised to see that he was hard as a rock. “No, this isn’t…” 

“It’s okay, darling,” Moriarty cooed as he knelt down beside Sherlock. He reached out his hand and began to knead him through his trousers. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

“Get your hand off of me,” Sherlock growled low. 

“Alright, fine,” Moriarty huffed as he stood back up. “I was only trying to help.” 

They watched as John started to move, creating a steady rhythm as Lestrade whimpered and groaned from the pain he was in.  
Sherlock looked away. He couldn’t believe what was happening even though it was happening right before his eyes. A tear ran down his cheek. John was becoming like Moriarty and even though he loved the doctor he had to stop him. He was hurting the DI just like he was sure Moriarty did to his friend. It was all Moriarty’s doing and it seemed locking the criminal mastermind away wasn’t good enough. Sherlock felt a new found hope wash over him. He was determined this time that Moriarty wasn’t going to walk out of here alive. If it was the last thing he was ever going to do. 

-

John was thrusting fast now into Lestrade as he dragged the knife down the DI’s throat. “Those noises you make, Inspector. They are music to my ears.” 

“Go to hell,” Lestrade spat out. 

“Sure and soon you’ll be joining me,” John mused as he leaned down and began to suck on Lestrade neck. 

Lestrade began to buck and twist even though it was futile to try to free himself. With the knife in John’s hand, he knew it wouldn’t be wise to fight it. 

“You know you’re being very noble,” John whispered into Lestrade ear. 

“What do you mean?” Lestrade breathed out then gasped when John shucked hard enough on his neck to leave a love bite. 

John placed the knife down next to the pillow and began to play with Lestrade nipples in between his forefinger and thumb. “Giving yourself first to me. Showing Sherlock how evil I’ve become. But, you forget that I will have him too. That taking you first doesn’t mean I won’t do the same thing to him.” 

Lestrade stared up into the dark irises of a man he no longer new and hissed, “Yes, but as you said he is seeing your true dark side. This...Whoever you really are isn’t the man we knew. This is. And now he sees that too.” 

John laughs and he started to thrust harder. “You’re right. Well done on your part, old chap. But, you forget one little tiny detail.” He leaned down and whispered into Lestrade’s ear. “He’s still in love with me.” John began to thrust faster now forcing another scream to rip from Lestrade’s throat. It didn’t take long until John was cumming inside of the DI. He buried himself deep inside and was filling his insides with his sperm. “Christ, you’re just what the doctor order, Gregory.” He leaned down and kissed Lestrade on the lips even though the DI did not return it. John pulled back and gripped onto Inspector’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Be a good boy now and I might just help you.” 

“Piss off,” Lestrade snarled. 

John laughed. “Really, Greg, I really think I could make better use of that filthily mouth of yours. Or perhaps Jim could.” He savored the look of horror on Lestrade’s face. “That’s what I thought. Now, do you want me to help you?” 

Lestrade swallowed but nodded. 

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that,” John taunted. 

Lestrade sighed. “Please, will you help me…John.” 

“Help you with what?” John asked, smiling down at the DI. 

Lestrade closed his eyes and turned his head away. He needed to steady himself. He didn’t to make it through this no matter what. “Will you please suck me off…” Lestrade said as he opened his eyes to see the knife was lying beside his head. He quickly turned away so he made sure John didn’t see him looking at the knife. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Greg?” John asked as he booped Lestrade on the nose. “Now, let’s see what we can do about…” 

It happened so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it. 

Lestrade reached for the knife and grabbed onto it. He brought it up and lunged at John, slicing the doctor’s forearm as he tried to block the attack. “Sherlock,” Lestrade shouted as he realized Moriarty’s gun was pointed at his head. But, Sherlock tackled Moriarty to the ground before he could get the shot off. 

Sherlock fought for the gun as Greg fought to keep control of the knife. And within all the madness somehow Sherlock stood holding the gun and Lestrade stood holding the knife as both men towered over John and Moriarty who were on their knees in front of them. 

“Now, that you have us right where you want us, what do you want us to do?” Moriarty asked, smiling up at Sherlock. 

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade who seemed to be barely holding on. He looked out of it and Sherlock wasn’t for sure if he could take much more. When Sherlock met John’s gaze he could tell that John was right where he wanted to be but somehow it wasn’t good enough. With the gun in his hand he ordered John to stand and John obeyed. 

“What are you doing?” Lestrade asked panicky as he pulled on his pants, trousers, and shoes. He left his socks and his torn shirt on the ground because he could always get new things. 

“I need him, Lestrade,” Sherlock murmured softly. 

“He’s gone, Sherlock. Our John we use to know is no longer there. We need to find a way out ourselves. Without him,” Greg insisted but Sherlock didn’t want to hear of it. 

“Come on, John,” Sherlock demanded, waving the gun for him to move towards the door. 

“May I put some clothes on at least?” John asked, pointing down at his naked form. 

Sherlock pretended not to noticed and nodded. “Hurry up.” 

“Sherlock, don’t do this,” Lestrade begged. "It isn't him. He isn't your John anymore." 

Sherlock turned and looked into his eyes. He could see the despair behind them and the loss. It was like he was acting as though John was already gone. But, when he looked over at the way John was looking at Moriarty, something in Sherlock changed. “Never mind, John. Just stay there. If either of you two shout I will shoot Jim.” 

Lestrade opened the door and both he and Sherlock moved swiftly down the hall where they found the warden’s office. They pushed the desk and whatever else they could in front of the door before Sherlock took out Lestrade cell from his own pocket and called his brother. 

“Oh, thank God,” Mycroft breathed. “I was started to…” 

“Mycroft, I’m sorry. Truly, I am sorry,” Sherlock said softly. 

Mycroft gripped the phone. “Where is he, Sherlock?” 

“We are in the warden’s office after getting away from Moriarty and…and John,” Sherlock informed him, voice cracking a little. “He needs a medic, Mycroft…and you. I don’t know how to…Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Give him the phone, Sherlock,” Mycroft insisted. 

Sherlock turned and held out the phone to Lestrade. The DI took it and put it to his ear. 

“Hello?” Lestrade said softly, almost childlike. 

“Gregory, it’s me. I’m here. Just outside those walls. Look out the window,” Mycroft said. 

Lestrade walked over to the window and smiled as he saw Mycroft just beyond the gate. “I…I see you.” 

Mycroft gripped the phone tighter in his hand when he could see that Lestrade was shirtless and there were cuts on his body. But, he kept his voice soft for his lover’s sake. “Yes, I see you too. Look, Gregory, Sherlock and I are working on a plan to get you both out. Please try to hold on just a little…” 

“I did it, Mycroft,” Lestrade suddenly interrupted him. 

“You did what, Gregory?” Mycroft asked curiously while hanging onto every word. 

“John was going to hurt Sherlock but he hurt me instead because I knew,” Lestrade explained. 

Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What did you know?” 

“That if Sherlock went first we would have lost him too,” Lestrade said as he looked over at Sherlock. “You need him.” 

“I need you too, Gregory,” Mycroft said softly, voice starting to crack slightly. 

Lestrade looked back at the window. “But, doesn’t he matter more to you? It is always about him, isn’t it?” Lestrade shouted as he started to bang on the glass. 

“Gregory, please stop this,” Mycroft begged. 

“No, tell me,” Lestrade demanded as he hit the glass with his fist again. 

“Gregory, I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore than you are. Please, just stop this,” Mycroft pleaded with him but it wasn’t working.

“Tell me you selfish prick,” Greg snapped. “Tell me or I’ll walk back out the door and let them take me.”

“Alright, yes,” Mycroft fine snapped. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Sherlock is more important to me because he is my brother. I’ve grown up taking care of him and no one ever understood what it was like to be us. No one. So, I did my best to protect him.” 

“And look where it has landed us, Mycroft!” Lestrade shouted out of anger. “John…I can’t believe what he did to…Oh God.” 

Lestrade backed away from the window. Sherlock took the phone back from Lestrade and placed it to his ear. “You need to get us out of here, Mycroft. I hear footsteps and the barricade will not hold them off for long.” 

“I’m on it, Sherlock,” Mycroft said. 

“Good,” Sherlock said and was about to hang up when Mycroft asked something more of him. 

“Take care of him, Sherlock. Won’t you?” 

“If you hurry, I won’t have too,” Sherlock spat back as he hung up the phone. 

“Sherlock! Come out, come out where ever you are! We weren’t done playing our little game,” John shouted. 

By the sound of his foot falls and the echo in the hall Sherlock knew that John was a few doors down but it wouldn’t take long before he found them. He walked over to Lestrade and whispered, “We need to push ourselves against this. We need to do whatever we can to slow them down. Do you understand me?” 

Lestrade nodded though he didn’t look like he was all there. 

Sherlock placed him and himself against the desk in hopes it would make John walk on. 

The door knob started to turn but stopped. There was a moment of silence before the shadow underneath the door disappeared. Sherlock relaxed slightly and was about to say something to Lestrade before there was banging on the door. 

“I know you’re in there, Sherlock. No one knows you better than me. Open the door, would you?” John said. 

“Over my dead body, John,” Sherlock shouted. 

“Well, if you insist,” John said as there was a loud bag against the door. 

“Oh, God,” Lestrade whimpered. 

“It’s alright, Lestrade,” Sherlock comforted him. “Mycroft will get us out of here. We just need to hold out a little longer.” However, Sherlock wasn’t for sure he believed his own words. With John and the rest of the prison trying to break down the door the situation seemed bleak. He just hoped that Mycroft made good on his word and could get them out before it was told late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? I feel like I am really starting to like this. Dark John. Wasn't sure at first but with this chapter I think I am. Thank you for reading and the wonderful comments.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing.

“Damn it, Sherlock, open the God damn fucking door!” John shouted angrily as he kicked the door. 

“Woah there, Johnny boy, calm yourself,” Moriarty said as he walked up behind the doctor. 

John turned to see Moran and Rickey were close behind him. He pointed at them and growled, “What the fuck are they doing here?” 

Moriarty held up his hands. “They are here to help pry the door open while you and I go for a little walk,” Moriarty explained. 

John glared at Rickey. “I don’t want him touching them.” 

Rickey puffed out his chest but backed down when Moriarty waved a dismissive hand. Moriarty walked up to John and placed a gentle hand against John’s cheek. “I promise, Johnny, that Ricky isn’t going to play with your toys. Moran will see to it.” He turned John around and started to push him down the hall. “Now, come. Daddy wants to have a chat.” 

They walked away with John looked at Moran over his shoulder. Moran gave him a curt nod, understanding his concerns about Ricky. It made John feel slightly better but still not enough that at the first sign of distress that he will come running to keep the bastard away from what was rightfully his. 

Moriarty ushered John into a medical office. When the door was closed Moriarty turned to see John was kicking the metal desk while throwing things off the top of it. He was furious and criminal mastermind smiled at the sight before him. John was coming along nicely in his opinion. Once beloved by all was now an enraged machine that could stop a man’s heart and make it look like a heart attack. Moriarty felt warmth spread through his chest for the doctor. He was so happy that John was now his. “Johnny, tell Daddy what’s wrong.” 

John threw a glass against the fair wall and watched it shatter before he turned to Moriarty and said, “I had them. I had them both and I let my guard down.” John threw the desk lap this time against the wall. “I get it now. Everything Sherlock ever told me. Sentiment. Feelings. They only cloud your mind. I don’t want to feel anymore.” 

Moriarty stepped forward and stopped John from throwing something else. He took John’s hands into his own and said, “I know it hurts, Johnny. It is hard to put into words what you are feeling but it will pass.” 

John’s gaze locked onto Moriarty’s. “I raped Greg.” 

Moriarty stepped closer to John. “I know.” He was trying to read John’s expression but for some reason he couldn’t. This was it. This was the moment that would tell Moriarty if John really was his or if he still had feelings for the two in the other room. Moriarty felt like he was falling down a bottomless pit and didn’t know if he would ever stop. 

John was silent for a moment before he said, “I want…I want to keep them.” 

Moriarty smiled manically at John because he’d calculated something like this happening to where John wanted to take Sherlock and Greg with them. It wasn’t really a surprise to him. But, it would make things a little more difficult with big brother Government on their tail. Still, it wasn’t impossible. “If that is what you wish, Johnny, then I’ll make it happen. Whatever you want because you are my boy and I want you to be happy with me.” 

John closed what little space there was between them. Rapping his arms around Moriarty’s waist John said, “I am happy with you, Jim.” John leaned forward and captured Moriarty’s lips with his own. The kiss started off gentle before it turned into desperation. The two men finally pulled away after some time, panting like dogs. “I want you to take me.” 

Moriarty was about to protest, seeing as to where they were but John began to knead the front of Moriarty’s jump suit. The criminal mastermind couldn’t control the moaned that was forced passed his lips. He was hard within seconds. “Johnny.” 

John stripped and turned, offering himself to Moriarty like a dog in heat. “Fuck me, Daddy.” 

Moriarty’s pupils were blown wide. He couldn’t say no to his boy. Not after this. So, Moriarty stripped and pushed John over to the examining table, bending him over the top of it. Moriarty lined himself up and starting to push himself into John’s hole. “Christ, Johnny. You’re so…fuck.” It had been to long sense the last time he’d fucking another person. John actually being the last person he had his prick in and here he was once again. Only this time John wasn’t fighting him. Instead, John oftener himself up to him like a bitch. Of course, who was Moriarty to say no. After a few moments of letting John adjust to him, Moriarty began to slow move, thrusting in and out slowly as to savor the feel of being in his John. “You feel incredible, Johnny.” 

John groaned as he started to move back to meet each of Moriarty’s thrusts. “Oh, Jim. Fuck me.” He was truly lost in the moment of it being Moriarty who was fucking him. Each night he spent laying in bed thinking of that time back in the warehouse. This psychopath tortured him and Sherlock before taking John away. Moriarty spent the time break John a little at a time. And to John’s surprised it worked. But, honestly you would have to be a fool to believe something like that wouldn’t change a person. Moriarty ripped John apart and put him back together the way he wanted John to be. Now, bent over a desk and whimpering out the madman’s name that took everything from him. 

“Stop thinking, Johnny,” Moriarty warned. 

John came back into the moment and began to thrust harder back into Moriarty. “Piss off,” John snarled. 

Moriarty laughed as he started. He reached out and grabbed a hand full of John’s hair, yanking hard as he started to fuck John even harder. “What was that, bitch?” 

“You heard me you, fucking psycho,” John growled. 

“Alright, if that is how you want to play this, then so be it.” Moriarty grabbed onto John wrist and pulled it behind his back. He was using it to brace himself as he continued to pull back on John’s head. Moriarty shifted until he found John’s prostate and screamed, “Fuck yes.” When John screamed out. “That’s it, Johnny. Scream for Daddy.” 

There were tears running down John’s cheeks as Jim continued his assault. He tried to struggle but that didn’t do him any good. After a few more thrust John felt the heat pool in his stomach and came hard as he said, “Fuck. Jim. Jesus Christ.” 

It only took a few more thrusts before Jim cried out, “Yes, Johnny. Fuck.”

Both men were now spent with Moriarty lying over John’s back as John lay on the cool metal of the table beneath him. It took everything with Moriarty to pull away from John. He was enjoying the other man’s smell and warmth. But, he knew there was work to be done too. He walked over and picked up his jump suit to start putting it back on when John grabbed his wrist. Moriarty looked back up at the doctor and smiled at the lust in John’s eyes towards him. 

“I never thought I’d be saying this to you,” John began. “I should loath you like Sherlock does but I can’t. In my heart I know what I want. What I need and everything points to you. I don’t know why. I’m a good man or at least I use to be. But, you somehow rewired me. Now, all I think about is this, us, together and it makes me happy.” 

Moriarty took John’s hands into his own and said, “It makes me happy as well, Johnny. I’m a man that shouldn’t have feelings. But, somehow you made me care about you. I hate it. I hate it because I don’t understand it. However, I know it’s there. I need you, Johnny. Always.” 

“Always,” John replied as he leaned in to kiss Moriarty when Rickey came to stand in the doorway. 

“Sir…uh…sorry,” Rickey said as he turned his head away. 

Moriarty sighed. “What is it?” 

“We just about got the door open,” Rickey replied. He looked back and smiled at John who in return glared at him.

“Good. We will be there in a moment. Now, shoo,” Moriarty said. When Rickey disappeared Moriarty turned to see John had his clothes back on. The criminal master frowned but it was nice that at least he’d gotten to spend this moment with John. He felt the urge to say something more to John. What he wasn’t for sure. The feelings he was having where foreign to him. He wasn’t for sure what more to say to John but he felt like he needed John to understand. “John, I…” 

John pulled away from Moriarty and said, “Whatever it is you’re about to say, just don’t.” He felt angry because he was enjoying the moment with Moriarty. But, he knew as long as they were here it could never last. They needed to get out. “We need to get out of here.” 

Moriarty smiled at him. “Daddy always has a plan, Johnny boy.” When both men were fully dressed, Moriarty walked out of the room with John close behind him. As they entered the other room, they found Moran had Sherlock penned down on the ground and another inmate held Lestrade down beside Sherlock. 

Both men were struggling. 

“If you break them, I’ll break you,” John announced to the room. 

Moran pulled Sherlock to his feet as the other man pulled Lestrade to his. 

Moriarty walked over to Sherlock and smiled up at him. “Against my better judgment he wants to keep you.” Moriarty looked over and Lestrade and added, “Both of you.” 

“And what did you say to this?” Sherlock inquired. 

“I’m only happy to oblige in giving anything to Johnny wants. It’s what I do, you see. Unlike others who tried to put a leash on him,” Moriarty turned and smiled at John. “I took the leash off and look what it brought me?” He looked back at Sherlock. “I must thank you, you know? For being so blind to your feelings that you couldn’t see the demon within clawing its way to the surface, because now, he will forever be my greatest accomplishment.” 

“You talk as though he is a prize to be won,” Sherlock huffed. 

“Isn’t though?” Moriarty retorted. “He is a magnificent specimen and so unstable.” 

Sherlock saw a manic gleam in Moriarty’s eyes. It seemed as though Moriarty was planning something but what? He couldn’t set off any bombs from here or start any wars so why was there a dark glimmer of chaos in the psychopath’s eyes? Sherlock wanted to ask when another inmate appeared at the door. “Sir, your helicopter is coming.” 

“Thank you, Jacob,” Moriarty replied. He turned his attention to John. “Our ride is here, darling. Let’s not keep them waiting.” 

“What?” Rickey spat out. They turned to him. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Moriarty. I get a chance to fuck the cop.” He smiled at Lestrade and licked his lip. The DI felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Well, sometimes plans change,” Moriarty informed him. 

Rickey held up his gun, pointing at Moriarty’s face. John held up his gun and pointed it back at Rickey. “Think for a second,” John said to Rickey. “I was a soldier and a doctor. My hands are steady and yours are shaking. If you fire I can assure you that you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” 

Rickey shifted from one foot to the other. He knew John was right. Even at this close of rage there was no telling if someone would move out of the way of the bullet but he knew John would drop him where he stood. So, against his better judgment he lowered his gun. 

That’s when John fired his gun. Rickey’s brains splattered all over the ground as the body hit the ground with a thud. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Lestrade shouted. He knew John had killed people before and they were bad men. Evil men who deserved it and Rickey was no different. But, when John turned to look at them Lestrade saw no remorse in John’s eyes. Instead, John was smiling and it set chills down his spin. He turned his gaze away, unable to look at the monster his friend had become. It was too much. 

Sherlock was frozen, staring down at the lifeless body of the inmate. It took him back to the cabbie when John saved his life. 

_John cleared his throat and looked around nervously._  
“Are you all right?” Sherlock had asked him.   
“Yes, of course I’m all right.”   
“Well, you have just killed a man.”   
“Yes, I…” John trailed off as he felt Sherlock’s gaze intently on him. “That’s true, innit?” He smiled as he knew Sherlock continued to watch him carefully. “But he wasn’t a very nice man.  
Apparently it was enough reassurance that John really was okay, that Sherlock nodded in agreement. “No. No, he wasn’t really, was he?   
“And frankly a bloody awful cabbie,” John added.   
Sherlock chucked, turns and started to lead them away. “That’s true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!”   
John giggled and smiled at Sherlock. “Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene. Stop it!”   
“You’re the one who shot him. Don’t blame me.”   
“Keep your voice down!” They are walking back Sergeant Donovan and John said to her, “Sorry – it’s just, um, nerves, I think.”   
“Sorry,” Sherlock said to Donovan.   
John cleared his throat as they walk away from her. “You were gonna take that damned pill, weren’t you?”   
Sherlock stopped and turned back to him. “Course I wasn’t. Biding my time. Knew you’d turn up.”   
“No you didn’t. It’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever.   
“Why would I need to do that?   
“Because, you’re an idiot.”   
Sherlock smiled, delighted that he’d finally found someone who understood him. 

The memory was fleeting as they were pushed passed the dead body and out the door. Sherlock knew his John was gone and as much as he wanted to be with John no matter what he knew he couldn’t be. This man killed another just because he could. That was the making of a psychopath. Sherlock walked the line himself but never had he crossed it. Now, with what John had done to Lestrade and killing a man in cold blood Sherlock knew what he had to do. 

*****

“Sir, we have a problem,” one of the agents informed Mycroft.   
“What is it now,” Mycroft hissed.   
“There is a helicopter heading this way. It isn’t ours, sir.”   
Mycroft looked up and sure enough he saw the helicopter headed for the roof of the prison.   
“What should we do, sir?”   
Mycroft wanted to take it down but he knew it would only result in either Lestrade’s or Sherlock’s death. He couldn’t risk it. “Let it land.”   
“Sir?”   
“Do as I order you to do,” Mycroft barked. “Keep an eye out. Moriarty might take them with him as hostages. If so I want you to make sure if you have a clean shot, you take it.”   
“Yes, sir.”   
However, it wasn’t until Mycroft saw what was going to transpire that he made his finally choice. He did the only thing a big brother and lover would do in the situation he was placed in.

*****

As they made it to the roof where the helicopter awaited for them, Moran got in first and was starting to pull Lestrade in. The DI was struggling and screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to fight his way out but John grabbed him and started to force him to get in. 

That’s when Sherlock made his move. He had successfully freed himself from his cuffs and grabbed onto the gun that was in John’s hand. He pointed it at Moriarty’s head and said, “Let Lestrade go.” 

John glared at Sherlock. “Let him go, Sherlock. You don’t want to do this.” 

“Neither do you. Let Lestrade go, John. Or Mycroft will bring hell down on you if you don’t,” Sherlock said. 

“Do you really think I’m afraid of him?” John spat out. 

“If you’re not, then you’re a fool,” Sherlock said. 

“Johnny, do as he says,” Moriarty said. 

John glared at him. “No.” 

“Johnny, I mean it. Listen to me and do as I say. Let the Inspector go.” 

As much as he hated to, John released Lestrade who limped his way over to Sherlock and Moriarty. 

“Moran…” Moriarty whispered. 

It all happened within a blink of an eye. 

Moran pulled John into the helicopter as the doctor started kicking and screaming. John could see the twisted gleam in Moriarty’s eyes and he was afraid. Afraid of what was going to come next. 

Moriarty mouthed something to John before he turned and pulled a gun from inside his jump suit. A gun shot rang out and the criminal mastermind was dead before he hit the ground. 

“NO!” John screamed as the helicopter lifted into the air. 

Sherlock was frozen as he looked from the dead body of what wants was James Moriarty to the ground. He saw Mycroft lowering a sniper rifle. 

“I’ll kill you, Holmes. If it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. I’ll fucking kill you!” John screamed before the door was closed and soon the helicopter was no longer in sight. 

Sherlock helped Lestrade out of the prison and smiled when Mycroft rushed over and kissed Lestrade on the lips. 

“Are you alright?” Mycroft asked. 

“I’m fine,” Lestrade said. He lied. 

Sherlock was happy that both men had each other once more. But, a chill passed through Sherlock. The words of John’s death threat still ringing in his ears. He knew that John wasn’t saying he was going to kill him but he was going to kill Mycroft. Sherlock didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want John to do anything to his brother or to Lestrade again but he knew because of what Mycroft had done, Sherlock knew that the east wind was coming. Only this time it was bringing hells fire to burn them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had to happen this way. Believe me when I say it. I am not sorry because now you see what will come next. He had to die to in order turn John's heart completely black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my lovely readers who have continued to follow me. You are amazing. Thank you and enjoy.  
> Warning: This is dark.

Before you read this I wanted to post this picture. This is the cover for my new book. 

Stripped and Bound – Description

Inspector Riley Neilson was on the hunt for a serial rapist known as the Midnight Stalker. But, there was a darker meaning to why she kidnapped the men she did and Riley wanted to find out why. Although, it was never his intent to be put on her radar, it came as a total shock when he was kidnapped. She held him captive for 3 days before his now ex-partner, Dawn Carter, found them. However, the rapist was never caught.

Five years later it started happening again but this time the men that are raped are also ending up dead. So, it is up to Riley to find her before she claimed another victim. In an odd twist of fate he was once again kidnapped. It was only after she finished playing with him that she disclosed she wasn’t behind the madness. In that dark twisted truth, Riley believed her and against everything he stands for he slowly started to give in.

Now, he must find the next victim and stop this copycat before it’s too late…

 

To find the book online go here. I will also have the books for sale soon. 

https://www.amazon.com/Stripped-Bound-Violet-Green-ebook/dp/B01JB3MM9S/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1469994979&sr=1-2&keywords=stripped+and+bound

 

Now for the story. 

*******

John was sitting in a red plush chair in the middle of Moriarty's study, intently staring into the fireplace, watching as the flames danced wildly. Each flame more beautiful than the last, different in their own way. He couldn’t help but think of the crazy Irish bastard and how he use to love gazing into the fire’s core.

_“Johnny, have you ever made love in the middle of an inferno?” The crazed nutter had asked him one night as they stood on the balcony of Moriarty’s sweet. The Irish man was pressed his body up against John’s back as his arms were wrapped around the doctor’s front. Both men looked down into the city below where they could see a building was engulfed in flames._

_John laughed as he replied, “No. That would be insane.” John loved how Moriarty’s gripped tighten slightly. It always did when the madman had a fucking crazy idea in his head. One that would get them both killed._

_Moriarty moved around to stand before John. He wiggled his eyebrows sensitively. “Would you like to?”_

_John looked back Moriarty’s head as he stared into the roaring blaze of the beast. He could hear sirens, screaming and chaos but when he looked back at Moriarty and into those dark intense eyes, somehow he made the world stop. Nothing else matter or could be heard. Moriarty made it all silent and John never felt so at peace. “Yes.”_

John closed his eyes at the memory.

_Moriarty was on top of him, thrusting hard inside of him as the building around them was engulfed in flames and slowly collapsing down._

_“Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so beautiful like this, Johnny. The flames glisten in your baby blues and making them shine as if the night sky were set ablaze.”_

_John laughed at him and then groaned as Moriarty grabbed his cock and began to jack him off with lighting speed. “Ever the smooth talker,” John mused._

_“Only for you, baby,” Moriarty said. “Now, let’s finish and get out before we both die of suffocation.”_

_“Agreed,” John said. Within seconds Moriarty made John cum and before cumming in his doctor with a cry a wild man would make._

_Moriarty captured John’s mouth in a possessive kiss before he pulled out and got them both to their feet. Moran was with them with oxygen tanks and blankets the moment they walked out the back door. Moriarty pulled John close when they sat in the back of his car. John laid his head on Moriarty’s shoulder and both men fell into a sound slumber until they arrived back at Moriarty’s place._

"John," Moran said, "I'm surprised you haven't put this poor bloke out of his misery."

John had almost forgotten. Lost in his memories of being with Moriarty for those short six months was all John had left of his lover. And even then it still wasn’t the same. He missed Moriarty every day, of every hour, of every second and of every moment that ticked by. “Just wanted to take my time,” John said as he lifted a bloody knife up to his eye level to study it. "But, I’m bored now."

Moran nodded as he stared down at the once great agent named Wilkins that was now a blubbering mess on the floor. The man was softly sobbing from being stripped of his clothes, bound and tortured for hours. Right now the cuts all over his body had dried up. He was one of Mycroft's men that Moran brought to John as a gift. It had been several weeks’ since the day at the prison and watching Moriarty getting shot for real this time, dead. He wanted to try and bring John out of this funk he’d been in. Moriarty would hate to see his Johnny wasting away or maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe Moran needed to do better. Bring someone higher up on the food change to make John snap out of this. "Do you want me to finish him off?" Moran asked him.

The agent shuddered at Moran's words and started to sob harder. He'd never imagined that John Watson could be so cruel. The first time he'd met John was during the scandal with Irene Adler. He had brought John to Buckingham Palace so Mycroft could have a talk with him and Sherlock. John seemed like a normal bloke, a good man then. What the fuck changed? All Wilkins could do was just pray for a quick death. That John would show him some sort of mercy and just end it all for him. Because if a man like John could turn then there was no hope for the human race.

"No," John replied as he stood to his feet. He lazily walked over to Wilkins and knelt down beside him. Slowly John reached out his hand and lightly placed it on the agent’s hip. Wilkins jumped from the sudden contact but said nothing as John's hand slowly caressed him lovingly. "I want to do what Jimmy always talked about. The one thing he threatened to do that I want to do in order to keep his memory alive." He paused as he reached out with his other hand, gripping Wilkins under his chin. He forced the agent to look into his eyes and said, “I'm going to skin you and make you into a pair of shoes and send you off to Mycroft as a gift. I’ll make sure they are big enough so he can wear you around to all the best parties. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Wilkins eyes widened with terror as his jaw fell open into a silent scream. It was only when Moran was picking him up and placing him over this shoulder he began to plead. “John, for the love of God, don’t do this. Or at least kill me now. Please. I was only following orders. You’re a good man. I know you are. Please, listen to reason.”

John walked behind them so he could see Wilkins face as they traveled down a long hallway. “You’re going to make a wonderful set of shoes. Maybe I’ll even put a little ruffle on top. How does that sound to you?”

Wilkins started to struggle in Moran's hold but the sniper had a tight grip on him so he couldn't go anywhere. "Please, don't do this," Wilkins begged.

"I think I'll try you on before I give you over to Mycroft. You know, to see how snug you fit." John smiled a manic grin. "I'm sure you'll be stylish."

Wilkins began to sob once more. The thought was sickening to him. He didn't want to be turned into a pair of shoes. He just wanted to die and his body be left alone. But, it seemed John was having other ideas. Darker ideas to the point would make anyone want to crawl out of their own skin.

When they entered a cement room Moran dropped Wilkins on the ground. The agent looked around and saw a drain next to him and a metal table that was covered with a white sheet.

John strolled over to the table and grabbed onto the sheet. He looked down at Wilkins and said, "Jimmy, was great with theatrics than I but…" John pulled off the sheet and picked up a silver knife with a brown leather handle. He was gazing at it fondly before he turned his attention back to the terrified agent on the floor. “Do you know this was the knife he used on me? He cut me over and over again as he fucked me.” John closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “His voice was hauntingly beautiful as he sang to me.” He looked back down at the agent on the floor. The man was still sobbing quietly and shaking with fear. _Jimmy, would have loved you,_ John thought to himself. He placed the knife back down on the table before removing his suit jacket and hanging in on a hook on the wall. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he picked up a much bigger knife with rigged edges and slight curve tip. “I think this one would do a better job flaying your skin. It will be like skinning a deer but your screams would bring much more satisfaction.”

Wilkins shook his head panicky. “No, please. At least show some mercy. Kill me. Please. Just at least do that. I beg of you, John.”

John gave a curt nod to Moran. The sniper walked over and began to drag the man over to a metal table that the agent didn’t realize was in the room. Moran picked Wilkins up and placed him hard on the mental table and placed a strap over this chest to keep him down against the table. When Wilkins was bound with his hands above his head and his feet together, Moran attached a cable that was hanging from the ceiling to the agent’s arms and legs and pulled. It lifted Wilkins’s limbs into the air.

“Oh God, help me,” Wilkins cried.

“He can’t help you,” John hissed. “Do you know why I’m having your limps lifted into the air?”

Wilkins sobbed. “No.”

“Well, as a doctor I know it will keep you alive longer. Lifting your legs means blood is staying where he need to be. Well, at least for the time being.” John pulled something from his pocket and hit a button. The song, “Dream A Little Dream of Me,” began to fill the room. John strolled over to the metal table and lightly placed the blaze of the knife against Wilkins stomach. The agent flinched even though he had nowhere to go. “Now, shall we get started?”

“Please, I’m begging you. Kill me quickly,” Wilkins tried one last time.

“Do you know that this song was something Jimmy use to sing to me? At first I was just like you. I wanted to die but I knew that wasn’t in that mad geniuses plan to do so. No, what he did was ten times worse. Do you know what that was?”

“No,” Wilkins whimpered.

John cut into Wilkins’s skin enough to get the blade underneath. Blood trickled down the agent’s side and onto the metal table. “Yes you do. Come on. I know you know. Working for a man like Mycroft and saying you don’t know anything, that’s fucking shit. Jimmy hated liars and you know what? So do I.” John cut into the agent’s skin causing the man to scream. “Beautiful,” John said. He pulled the knife away along with a small strip of Wilkins’s flesh. Moran was at his side with a steel bowl that John placed the strip of skin into. “Thank you, Moran.” He turned back to Wilkins and said, “Tell me, agent, do you know what Jimmy did to me?”

“P – Please…” Wilkins stammered between sobs.

“Say it,” John snarled.

“I…can’t…”

John cut into Wilkins skin again causing the man to scream. When he cut it away he placed it into the bowl Moran held up beside him. John turned back to Wilkins and began to lightly run his fingers through the man’s hair. “You can’t because you can’t come to terms with such horror and yet here you are getting your skin flayed like you’re the catch of the day. You’re no agent. You’re weak and pointless. Do you want to know who is a bigger man than you? Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Now, that is one tough man, and Christ, he was such an amazing fuck.” That’s when it hit him. Just like himself to be the heart of Sherlock Holmes…Greg Lestrade was the heart of Mycroft Holmes. “That’s it.”

Moran tilted his head slightly to the side. “That’s what?”

John turned to him. “We need to kidnap Greg.”

Wilkins began to struggle. “No,” he shouted.

John turned his attention back to the agent. “Yes. Which men’s the sooner I get to take your skin off the faster I get to have him here. So, scream for me.” John began to cut into Wilkins skin as the man let out one blood shattering scream after another. Blood went everywhere and John was delighted that Wilkins was staying awake.

It took almost two hours but John placed the last piece of skin into the bowl that he would need in order for the shoes to be made. Moran made sure there was a special liquid to keep the skin fresh so it could be easily shaped. John looked into Wilkins’s eyes as the agent’s glassy one looked back up at him.

Wilkins’s groaned, “Kill me.”

John smiled at the bloody mess on the table. “You’ll die soon enough. In the mean time…” John trailed off as he picked up a Polaroid camera off the far table and took a picture of the agent. He grabbed it and started to shake it. “I’m sure Mycroft is going to love you.” John looked at the picture and smiled manic. “I know I do.”

Wilkins’s closed his eyes and slowly turned his head away. Never had he felt some much pain before. Why wasn’t death coming like it should be? No one should ever die this way.

“Well, this has been fun but since we got what we need, Moran, please take that to Mr. Jackle,” John said.

“Yes, sir,” Moran said as he walked out of the room.

John looked back down at the agent on the table and began to lightly run his fingers through his hair once more. “You’re going to be a beautiful piece of art, Agent Wilkins.”

Wilkins did not look at John as he said, “You’re the devil in sheep’s skin.”

John laughed. “How delightfully true a statement. And your skin will soon be covering my feet. How's that for irony?”

Wilkins turned his red bloody face towards John and hissed, “I hope you burn.”

John’s face twisted into something dark as he gripped the knife handle tighter in his hand. “Do you know what Jimmy did to me?”

“He tortured you and rapped you for days,” Wilkins replied softly.

John shook his heads. “No.” He leaned close enough to whisper into Wilkins’s ear. “He set me free.” John drew the blaze across Wilkins’s neck, blood spewing back up into John’s faces. For a moment John stood their admiring his handy work. He often wandered what Mycroft would look like with no skin. The thought pleased him. Then he thought about Sherlock holding the knife and covered in Mycroft’s blood. That thought made his cock twitch with such pleasure that he craved it like a smoker needed a cigarette.

“John,” Moran said.

John turned around to face him. “Did you deliver it to Mr. Jackle at my request?”

“Indeed, I did.”

“Good, lad,” John said. “I do believe I’m in need of a shower.” John looked down at himself covered in the agent’s blood.

“Yes, of course.”

“Moran, would you like to join me?” It was out before John could stop himself. Without Moriarty there with him Moran was the second closest thing to match John’s madness. But, it wasn’t the only reason John found out why Moriarty kept Moran around.

Moran slowly walked over to John and cupped John’s face with his hand. He gazed into John’s eyes and smiled. “You’re just like him, John. Right down to the darkness in your soul. He loved you though, like he’s never loved any before in his life.”

“He loved you, too.”

Moran shook his head. “No, I worked for him and let him fuck me whenever he needed it. Sometimes to get his rage out all he needed was to fuck.” He leaned forward and kissed John lightly on the forehead. “I can be your release, John Watson.”

John closed his eyes and felt lost in Moran’s words. He wanted the man but how would Moriarty feel about that? John loved the madman in return but Moriarty let himself die. Which made John angry about and he didn’t understand it. How he could just leave him?

The next thing either of them knew, they found themselves in the shower. John’s cock was buried deep inside of Moran’s arse as he wasn’t holding anything back.

“That’s it, Johnny, oh Christ. Let it out,” Moran groaned.

John bit down hard on Moran’s shoulder causing the sniper to scream. Blood trickled down the snipers back and down John’s chin. “You don’t get to call me that. Only he got to call me that. Understand, soldier?”

“Fuck, sir. Yes, sir,” Moran said.

“Good.” John repositioned himself so he was thrusting into Moran and hitting his prostate with each hard thrust, “Cum for me you little cock slut.”

“Yes, sir,” Moran moaned as he began to cum all over the shower wall.

With a few more thrust John wasn’t far behind and came inside Moran. Both men turned and leaned against the shower wall, the water cold now against their skin.

“I guess you are what the doctor needed,” John said.

Moran grinned. “I have that affect or so I’m told.”

John nodded. “I can concur to this fact.”

There was a moment of silence before Moran stepped out.

“Uh, Moran,” John said.

Moran looked back at him.

“Thank you for…”

“No need to thank me, Captain. It’s all part of my job.” Moran disappeared from sight.

John turned off the water and stepped out. He dried himself off and walked out to find Moran wasn’t anywhere in Moriarty’s bedroom. John walked over to the bed and lied down on his side of the bed. He pulled Moriarty’s pillow against his chest and smelled it. The scent was no longer there. John felt sad and more alone then he ever had in his life because the one man that made him who he was. The one man that loved him and never belittled him was gone. Taken from him and John was going to make Mycroft pay.

Moran returned into the room and smiled at the naked John lying in bed while holding Moriarty’s pillow to his chest. “Uh, sir? I’m sorry but Mr. Jackle wants to show you what he has so far.”

John sat up. “He’s almost done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful.” John got dressed and they walked down to the lab.

Mr. Jackle looked like a crazed scientist with wild hair standing up, big black frame glasses, a white lab coat and black leather gloves. He was pouring some blue chemical over the strips of skin. “This person took really good care of their body. This is going to be my best pair yet.”

“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Jackle,” John said. “Moran tells me you wanted to show me something.”

“Right, yes,” Mr. Jackle said as he picked up a finished shoe. “What do you think?”

John took it from his hand and looked it over. It had everything on it including the ruffles on top. “This is beautiful craftsmanship, Mr. Jackle. I couldn’t begin to tell you how impressive your skill set is.”

“Aww, you’re too kind, Doctor Watson,” Mr. Jackle said. “You can try it on.”

John looked from the crazy man to the shoe. He placed it down on the ground, took off his own shoe and slipped in on. He made a weird face and said, “If feels squishy.”

“Oh, that’s memory foam,” Mr. Jackle said. “Like I said, only the best.”

“Very good, Mr. Jackle. Now, do hurry to finish the other one.”

“Yes, sir.”

John walked out of the lab with Moran and said, “It’s almost time.”

“Time for what? You haven’t even told me what you plan on doing.”

“Well, I know you’re going to hate it,” John explained.

“You’re right. I probably will but that will not stop me from doing my job,” Moran replied.

“Good to know. Now, here is what we are going to do…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this very dark chapter. Let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Before you read this I wanted to post this picture. This is the cover for my new book. 
> 
> Stripped and Bound – Description
> 
> Inspector Riley Neilson was on the hunt for a serial rapist known as the Midnight Stalker. But, there was a darker meaning to why she kidnapped the men she did and Riley wanted to find out why. Although, it was never his intent to be put on her radar, it came as a total shock when he was kidnapped. She held him captive for 3 days before his now ex-partner, Dawn Carter, found them. However, the rapist was never caught.
> 
> Five years later it started happening again but this time the men that are raped are also ending up dead. So, it is up to Riley to find her before she claimed another victim. In an odd twist of fate he was once again kidnapped. It was only after she finished playing with him that she disclosed she wasn’t behind the madness. In that dark twisted truth, Riley believed her and against everything he stands for he slowly started to give in.
> 
> Now, he must find the next victim and stop this copycat before it’s too late…
> 
>  
> 
> To find the book online go here. I will also have the books for sale soon. 
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Stripped-Bound-Violet-Green-ebook/dp/B01JB3MM9S/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1469994979&sr=1-2&keywords=stripped+and+bound
> 
>  
> 
> Now for the story. 

Sherlock was standing in the middle of the sitting room of 221B, playing his violin when he heard footsteps coming up to his door. By the shift of each foot fall on each step and the speed at which they moved Sherlock knew it could only be one person.

“Sherlock, we need to talk,” Mycroft said as the door opened.

“Obliviously, that’s why you’re here,” Sherlock sneered, continuing to play without messing a note.

“Don’t be difficult, Sherlock,” Mycroft huffed as swung his umbrella in the air as he moved over to sit in Sherlock’s chair. “It’s been weeks and we have yet to hear a word from John.”

Sherlock slid his bow across the strings making a high pitched squeak that made Mycroft twitch from the unpleasantness of the sound. It made Sherlock smirk as he removed the instrument from underneath his chin and placing it with care inside its case. He closed it and walked over to John’s chair and sat down, placing his hands together in front of his mouth. “Are you worried, brother dear?”

Mycroft frowned at him before turning his gaze away to look at his umbrella. “Really, Sherlock, if I were worried I’d…”

“You’re not looking at me,” Sherlock pointed out.

“What?” Mycroft asked, lifting his umbrella to admire the tip before placing it back onto the floor.

“Honestly, Mycroft,” Sherlock scuffled. “Enough with your theatrics and tell me what’s on your mind or leave.”

Mycroft sighed as he turned his gaze to meet his little brother’s. “Very well, have it your way.”

“As I often do,” Sherlock replied childishly.

Mycroft wanted to reply to his child like behavior but now wasn’t the time. Instead he said, “I know John will make a move. It’s just a matter of time before he does. You know him better than anyone, Sherlock.”

“You want me to give you information on him, is that it?” Sherlock inquired.

“Yes,” Mycroft said. “I want to stop him before he does something unforgivable.”

“Like he hadn’t already?” Sherlock huffed.

“Gregory will work through it, Sherlock, as will I. We just need to stop John before something bad happens.”

“I suppose,” Sherlock said lazily, “After all he did threaten to kill you.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft said flatly. “Now, how do we go about…”

Mycroft was cut off by Mrs. Husdon walking into the room with a rather large box in hand. “This came for you, Mr. Holmes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Husdon. Just put it down on the table,” Sherlock replied.

“Not you, Sherlock, it’s for your brother,” she said.

Both men looked up where they sat, staring at the box curiously.

“Well, are you going to take it or not? It is rather heavy,” Mrs. Husdon said.

“Yes, forgive me,” Sherlock said as he stood. He gracefully moved towards her and took the large box from her hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Just remember I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper,” she said. She then pointed a finger at Mycroft and huffed, “And not defiantly not your messenger.” She turned and walked out of the room.

Mycroft stood, pulled down his vent as he walked swiftly into the kitchen where Sherlock had placed the box. “Sherlock, perhaps I should call in a team to make sure nothing is amiss with this?”

“Why? Studying the handwriting on the card that is addressed to you, I could tell that this is clearly from John. Now, he said he wanted you dead but never mentioned me once so I can assure you that this isn’t something deadly.” He gave Mycroft an annoyed look. “Need I go on?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “No, I suppose not,” Mycroft replied.

“All right then,” Sherlock said as he picked up a knife from the table and began to cut away the tape. When he opened the box both men looked inside, all color drained from their faces. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft who slowly backed away until his back hit the wall.

“No,” Mycroft whispered.

Sherlock looked from his brother back down into the box. He spun on his heels and grabbed for a pair of gloves lying on the counter top. As he pulled them on he turned back around, placing his hands down into the box and pulling out the contents from inside. He held up the object and studied it in odd fascination. What he held looked like a shoe that but there was something strange about it. Sherlock picked up a magnifying glass before he looked to his brother. “It’s human skin and the shoe size seems to be in your size.”

Mycroft closed it eyes as he leaned his head against the wall. “It can’t be.”

Sherlock looked back down into the box and saw a note. He reached in and pulled it out. “Iceman, I did inform Agent Wilkins you’d wear him to all the best events. Please, do not disappoint him. He gave up a lot just to make you look fashionable.” Sherlock swallowed. He couldn’t believe this was from the same John he fell in love with, the same John who saved his life and became his friend because this man was not his John by any means. He looked back up at Mycroft who held a hand over his mouth. “Mycroft?” Sherlock murmured softly. It was not every day he saw his brother is such a shock state. This was beyond anything they thought John capable of.

Finally, Mycroft looked up at Sherlock and said, “The man is a criminal and murderer.”

“Mycroft, this is John we are dealing with,” Sherlock said.

“No,” Mycroft snapped. “This isn’t the same man you met, Sherlock. John is a killer. The proof of that is in your hands. We need to take action before…”

Just then Sherlock’s phone began to ring. Sherlock put down the skinned shoe, pulled off the gloves and pulled out his phone from his pocket. His eyes snapped up to Mycroft. “It’s him.”

Mycroft moved around the table to stand next to Sherlock. “Put it on speaker.”

Sherlock nodded as he did. “John?”

“It’s so good to hear your voice, Sherlock. My God, it’s almost been a month sense I heard that deep sensual voice of yours. Care for a quickie? I could have a car pick you up in 2 minutes.” John said.

Sherlock closed his eyes. The feeling of John against him, the warmth of his body and the soft moans he use to coo into his ear made Sherlock’s cock twitch. He missed his John. But, Mycroft placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder brought him back to reality. Sherlock opened his eyes and said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“Too bad because I had so many plans for us,” John purred. “How I was going to tie you up and run my tongue all over your body. Not leaving any part of you unexplored. I would mark you as mine before slowly fucking into you as I would stroke your cock with each slow thrust.”

Sherlock’s grip tightened on the phone. He wanted John. Fuck he needed him and he wasn’t for sure what to do. “John,” Sherlock whispered, his body aching for John’s touch.

That’s when Mycroft decided to end this. “Leave my brother alone, John.”

There was a dark chuckle on the other end of the line. “Ah, Mycroft, I didn’t know you were still there. Did you get my gift?”

“Unfortunately,” Mycroft said bitterly.

“Aw, did you not like it?” John said.

“No,” Mycroft replied. “I can assume that Agent Wilkins is no longer with us?”

“You assume correctly,” John said. “I couldn’t leave the poor bastard like that.”

“Oh, Christ,” Sherlock murmured. “The poor sod was alive?”

“That’s right, Sherlock,” John said, “That was the only way to assure the skin could be molded correctly. The host needed to be alive.”

Sherlock couldn’t believe it. John skinned the man alive. An involuntary shiver ran through his body. “Why are you calling, John?”

“I’m calling because I want you to give yourself over to me freely, Mycroft. No tricks. Just you and I will leave everyone else you care about alone.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Mycroft snapped.

“Fine,” John huffed. “How do you say it, Sherlock? Oh, yes. The game is on.” The line when dead.

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft and said, “What do you suppose he meant?”

It took Mycroft a moment before his eyes grew wide with panic. “Gregory,” he breathed. He pulled out his phone and hit number 2 on his speed dial. Sherlock wondered who number 1 was until they heard Lestrade’s voice come over this line. “Gregory, are you in your office?”

“S – Sorry…Mycroft…H – hello?” Lestrade said, his voice cutting in and out.

“He’s in the parking garage,” Sherlock said.

“Gregory, you need to go back upstairs,” Mycroft said panicky.

“M – My – croft…I can’t…call back,” Lestrade said and the line went dead.

“No, Gregory, don’t,” Mycroft shouted.

“Call the Yard. Tell them they need to go down there,” Sherlock said as he rushed for the door.

Mycroft was right behind him as they both rushed down the stairs and out to Mycroft awaiting car. “Scottland Yard and hurry.”

*****

Lestrade stepped off the elevator and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He pulled one out and placed it between his lips when his phone began to ring. Pulling it out from his pocket he looked at the caller idea and smiled. He pulled out the unlit cigarette and hit the talk button, placing the phone to his ear.

“G – Gregory…you…office?” Mycroft said.

“Sorry, Mycroft, what? Hello?” Lestrade said. He heard Sherlock’s voice in the background but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Greg…need…back…stairs,” Mycroft said panicky.

“Mycroft, I can’t understand you. I’ll call back,” Lestrade said as he hung up the phone. He put the phone back into his pocket and placed the cigarette between his lips. Searching his pockets for a lighter he couldn’t find one and grumbled, “Oh, for fuck sake’s.”

“Need a light?” A voice said from behind him.

“Yeah, I guess I was in a hurry too…” Lestrade started to say and then froze when he saw the other man. The cigarette fell from between his lips and onto the ground. “John…”

“Hello, Greg,” John said. “It’s been while.”

“It has been, yes,” Lestrade replied. He was looking towards the elevator and the distance between him and John.

John smiled at him. “Do you really think you can outrun me, Greg?”

“Desperate times, John,” Lestrade replied.

“True,” John said.

Lestrade made his move and rushed at the elevator but John rushed at him, grabbing him around the waist and sending both of them crashing back to the ground. Lestrade’s head bounce off the cement ground which fazed him enough for John to straddle him and pin the Inspector’s arms above his head.

“I’m going to enjoy taking you apart,” John growled.

“I’d rather listen to Sherlock talk about his blog and the differences between cigarette ashes,” Lestrade said.

“Oooo, feisty,” John purred.

“If you let me up I’ll show you just how feisty I can be,” Lestrade spat.

“Tempting offer but if I know the Holmes as well as I believe I do they have called the Yard by now to have a team come down and check on you. Which means time is limited.” John looked up and said, “Moran, if you please.” 

Moran stepped out from the shadow’s with a syringe in hand.

Lestrade began to struggle but John had a firm hold on him. It took him now to realize Mycroft was calling him to warn him. He should have gone back onto the elevator instead trying to steal a quick smoke. _Those things will kill you,_ Sherlock once told him. He realized now how true the statement had been. “John, don’t do this. Whatever you’re thinking about doing just don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Greg, it’s only going to hurt a lot,” John said.

Moran knelt down next to them and pushed the needle into Lestrade’s neck.

“No,” Lestrade said. “John, please.” Silent tears began to run down his face. This man was once a good man and one he called friend. Now, he was terrified beyond anything he’d ever felt before.

John leaned down and whispered, “Shhh, just close your eyes, Greg.” He licked away a tear and moaned. “Mmmm, be a good boy for me and go to sleep.”

Lestrade turned his head away as he started to feel the drug, his eyes feeling heavier. “Mycroft…Sherlock…no…”

Lestrade’s eyes slowly fell closed, listening to the sickening sweet voice of John saying, “I’ll make you forget them, Greg, just as Jimmy did to me. The good shall become the wicked causing the world to fall into chaos and we will sit upon our throne to watch it burn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I am trying to keep up on updates with this but I have other books I am writing and working on. I'm also going to conventions to sale my creations. I'm super excited. 
> 
> Enjoy.

When the Holmes brothers arrived at the Yard they leap from the car before it even had a chance to come to a complete stop. They rushed past they guard at the parking gate and found Donovan and Anderson standing out in the open.

“Where is he?” Sherlock asked.

“Listen here, freak, I…” Donavan began but Mycroft stepped up in front of her.

There was a look of anger on Mycroft’s face as he snarled, “I can have you resigned to a place where not even the crows will land their droppings on you. Now, tell me what the hell happened.”

“Mr. Holmes,” Anderson began, stepping between him and Donavan. “On the CCTV camera…there…” Anderson held up a tablet for them to see.

On the screen they see Lestrade getting off the elevator and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He started to pat himself down and it seemed like he was frustrated about something. That’s when John walked into the view of the camera. Lestrade’s body went tense as they stood there talking for a moment. Mycroft wished he knew what they were saying to one another. There was a moment of hesitation before Lestrade made a move towards the elevator but John tackled him to the ground. John was on top of him and pinned him so the Inspector couldn’t move. That’s when Moran came into view and was holding a syringe in his hand. Lestrade began to struggle but stopped when the needle forced into his neck. Mycroft watched in horror as Greg’s eyes slowly began to close. John stood and Moran picked up Lestrade limp body and carried him over to an awaiting car, placing him in the back seat. John turned and looked up at the camera, smiling big. He pulling out something from his pocket and held it up. It was a piece of paper that had writing on it. John placed it back into his pocket and got into the back seat of the car with Lestrade as Moran got into the front seat. The car took off and not but a moment later Donovan and Anderson stepped off the elevator.

Anderson hit stop on the feed. “I’m so sorry,” he said to Mycroft. “I didn’t know we were that close. If we were just a moment sooner…”

“He would have killed you,” Mycroft stated bluntly.

Both Anderson and Donovan's eyes grew wide with shock.

“Mycroft, you can’t know that John would have done that,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, wake up, Sherlock,” Mycroft snapped. “He kidnapped one of my agents, skinned him alive and made him into a pair of shoes. You cannot stand there and tell me what I believe he would do. Look at what he has done. He bloody raped Greg in that prison. That friend of yours had been gone for six months because he was with Moriarty. So, don’t try to defend him, Sherlock. This is it. We are hunting down a murderer.”

“You don’t have to inform me of what I already know,” Sherlock snapped.

“It seems I do. He isn’t your John…”

“I KNOW HE’S NOT,” Sherlock shouted.

Both brothers starred the other down. They were silent for a moment before Sherlock spoke again.

“I know my John is gone. I know that. It is still hard to believe sometimes but I understand what we must do now.”

“Yes, and that is to get Gregory back,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock nodded. “Agreed,” he said as he thought back on the video feed. “Wait, John held up something at the end.” He turned to Anderson whose face looked drained of all color. “We need to see what John held up. Can you zoom in on it?”

Anderson opened his mouth but nothing came out. He closed it again because he was in shock from hearing that John Watson was this monster that kidnapped his boss. It seemed surreal somehow. Shaking his head he cleared his throat and started again. “N – Not on this. But, come up stairs to my computer. I am sure I can from there.”

"Let's go," Sherlock said, pushing Anderson toward the elevator.

All four rode up in silence. Donovan and Anderson kept shifting and fidgeting because they didn't know what to say. They were scared for their boss who also was their friend. How could they not see what Lestrade had been going through these past few months? He had been different and now they knew why. John was supposed to change Sherlock for the better but now the good doctor was Sherlock's enemy. It was like a horror movie and it seemed like it was only going to get worse from here.

Donovan gave Sherlock a sympathetic look but Sherlock ignored her and stepped off the moment the doors opened. They followed Anderson to his desk, ignoring all the stares from other colleagues as Anderson sat down in front of his computer. He moved the mouse to wake the monitor and up on the screen was a picture of him and Donovan in a loving embrace. Anderson quickly clicked something which made the image disappear and brought of the CCTV footage. He then fast forward to John holding up a piece of paper. Anderson typed something in and clicked on the image until the words were readable.

"It's a computer link," Anderson said.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Sherlock said annoyingly, “Type in the link.”

“Oh, right,” Anderson said. He typed in the link and the moment he hit the enter key there was a message on the screen.

_I hold your heart is in my hands. Now, I’m going to break it._

There was also a countdown clock that read less than ten minutes. It seemed something was going to pop up the moment the clock struck down to zero.

“My God,” Donovan murmured. She turned to Mycroft. “He’s going to hurt Greg and all you can do is stand there. You’re worse than your brother.”

Mycroft slowly turned to her, his eyes boring into her with furry as he snarled, “Don’t you ever speak to me in that tone. Gregory might be able to tolerate your insubordination but I will not stand for it. The moment this is over and he safe back in my arms I’m going too…”

“Mycroft, don’t do something so rash,” Sherlock said quickly. “She might be an annoying little twat but she is useful.”

Mycroft turned his attention toward his brother, glaring at him. There were unspoken words between them before Mycroft walked away.

Sherlock walked him and then turned back to the other two.

Donovan sighed as she said, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No, you didn’t think,” Sherlock corrected her. “Lesser minds do not think before they speak. He might be your boss but he’s been secretly dating my brother for awhile now.”

Both Anderson and Donovan’s mouths drop open.

“Are you serious?” Anderson asked.

“Yes, I’m quite serious,” Sherlock said. “So, before you speak again take that into consideration before he ships you off to the Netherlands.” Sherlock leaned in close to Donovan with a serious look on his face. “Because believe me he will and there would be nothing you can do to stop him from doing it.” Sherlock turned and walked away, a small smirk on his face knowing how terrified he made the two. It was a good feeling to one up them for once. But, now his focus was on Mycroft as he walked into Lestrade’s office to find his brother sitting in the Inspector’s chair. “You all right, brother mine?” Sherlock asked, closing the door behind him.

Mycroft was looking at his phone and when Sherlock came closer he could see a picture of Lestrade and his brother in a loving embrace at their parent’s home. It was Christmas and Mycroft brought Lestrade to meet mummy and daddy. Their parents took a shine to Lestrade the moment he’d walked into their home. Mycroft wiped his faces as he placed the phone face down on the desk. “I’ve decided to give myself over to him,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock shook his head. “You can’t. Mycroft, I know it looks grim but you can’t do that.”

When Mycroft looked up at Sherlock couldn’t believe it. He’d seen his brother cry a number of times but it was never over someone that wasn’t blood. Lestrade wasn’t related to them but Sherlock understood now. Mycroft really did love the Inspector and now John was going to destroy him.

“What choice do I have, Sherlock? He has Gregory and I will not just sit here while he tortures him,” Mycroft said.  

“There must be a better way.” Sherlock placed in his hands together in front of his mouth. Thinking about what the best solution would be when came a ramping on the door.

Anderson opened the door and said, “Uh, you might want to come take a look at this.”

Both Holmes followed Anderson back over to his desk. On the screen was a naked and bound Lestrade that was gagged with a cloth tied around the back of his head. There were bruises that started to form and small little cuts on his skin. He was looking to the side of the camera, glaring at whoever it was that stood there.

“No need to look so angry, love,” came John’s voice. “We are going to have such fun.” John stepped into view of the camera but was not yet looking at the lens. “I’m going to enjoy making you scream my name.”

Lestrade said something but it was muffled by the gag.

John laughed. “I can’t understand you, love, but I don’t need to when I’m going to be listening to your screams here in the next few minutes.” That’s when John turned to face the camera. “Hello, Mycroft. I hope you’re enjoying the view. I know I am. He looks so precious like this, doesn’t he?” John moved around to stand behind Lestrade. “You know being a doctor I could break every bone in your body while naming them.” He placed his hands on Lestrade’s shoulders making the Inspector tense. “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” He laughed. “I’m wanting to play a game. Now, it is set up that if you type something I can see it.”

Lestrade tried to speak but his words continued to be muffled by the gag in his mouth.

John sighed, rolling his eyes. “It is extremely rude to speak with a mouth full, love.” He removed the gag from Lestrade’s mouth.

The Inspector looked right at the camera and said, “Turn it off, Mycroft. Please, for the love of God, don’t watch this.”

John hit Lestrade hard in the back of the head. “Speak when spoken to,” he snapped. He grabbed a hand full of Lestrade’s silver hair, yanking hard. It made a Lestrade hiss in pain. “or I’ll turn this into something much worst then planned.”

Mycroft’s lip curled up into a snarl. He pulled out his phone and began to type furiously on his phone.

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but something made him paused. He closed his mouth and just sat there.

“Good boy,” John praised, releasing Lestrade’s head. He turned his gaze back to the camera. “Nice try, Mycroft, but the link is untraceable. You’ll never find him unless I want you too.”

Mycroft pushed Anderson out of the way and typed, _“You can have me if you let him go.”_

“Would you look at that, Greg? Mycroft is willing to give himself to me for your freedom,” John said.

Lestrade shook his head. “No, Mycroft you can’t…”

John sighed and punched Lestrade in the stomach. “What did I say, Greg?” He smiled as Lestrade gasped for breath. “Was I talking to myself? I don’t think I was. Really, Greg, I see why Sherlock gets so annoyed with you.”

That’s when Sherlock pushed Mycroft out of the way and began to type out a message. When he hit enter everyone around him gasped.

John smiled at the words and said, “Well now, that is a very tempting offer, Sherlock. One I might be willing to work with.” John looked back at Lestrade before turning back to the camera. “Give me a little time to think on it. I promise I won’t keep you waiting for long.” He blew a kiss to the camera before it went black.

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock’s arm and forced his brother to look at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

Sherlock pulled out of his brother’s grip. “It’s the only way, Mycroft.”

“No it’s not. There’s got to be something else,” Mycroft said.

“He won’t kill me,” Sherlock said.

“You don’t know that,” Mycroft replied.

“Yes, I do,” Sherlock snapped. “My John or not he has feelings for me. He will not kill me. I know he won’t.”

Mycroft sighed. “I can’t lose you.”

“Mycroft, this isn’t about you or me. This is about saving one’s life and trying to redeem one’s soul. In order to save them you have to let go and trust me. Trust me to know what I am doing otherwise I fear the worst.”

Mycroft turned his back on his brother. He closed his eyes and said, “What if…What if he turns you?” He turned back to Sherlock and looked him dead in his eyes. “I’d be trading one evil for another.”

Sherlock shook his head. “That’s not how I see it.” He stepped forward and embraced Mycroft. “You deserve happiness, Mycroft. With Lestrade you get that and more. You get the family you always wanted.”

Anderson and Donovan’s faces were ones of disbelief. They never knew that the brothers could show any human form of emotions toward anyone, let alone hug each other. It wasn’t something the mind could grasp and it was like they were in some bad nightmare. They looked around as the entire room was silent and staring. Donovan gave them all a glare and they went back to work.

Mycroft pulled him back to arms length. “You’re also my family, Sherlock.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Sherlock replied with a small grin on his face.

Mycroft smiled at him and pulled away from Sherlock completely. “I can’t ask you to do this. You’d be giving up your life.”

“What life? I’m a drug addict, Mycroft and we both know what will happen to me. And besides, you’re not asking me to do anything. I offered myself as a trade,” Sherlock stated.

“Well…you shouldn’t have,” Mycroft huffed. He released it was a mistake for Sherlock to trade myself. Sherlock was his brother and he would be worried about him. It wasn’t right. None of this was.

“It’s not up to you,” Sherlock replied. “It was my choice.”

“It was the wrong choice,” Mycroft spat out. “He wanted me.”

“Too bad,” Sherlock said. “He is getting me. Now, if you excuse me I will be waiting in Lestrade’s office.” He looked at Donovan. “Please, retrieve me when John decides to grace us with his presents.” He turned and stormed off into Lestrade’s office, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. More to come...I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my story. It means a lot to me. I hope you like this.

When Lestrade awoke he found himself lying on a bed. He lifted his hand to his head slightly dazed about where he was and how he’d gotten there. That was until he heard a familiar voice say, “Oh, good. You’re up.” Lestrade sat up a little more on the bed, his head pounding from whatever drug was forced into his system. He watched as John walked over and sat on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?” John asked, sounding more like a doctor than a crazed psychopath.

Lestrade stared at him. He looked like normal every day John. He was even wearing a blue jumper for fuck’s sake. It was giving Lestrade a conflicting feeling of hope and fear. “My head is killing me,” Lestrade said. He decided he would answer any of John’s questions so hopefully less harm would bestow on his person. At least that is what Lestrade was aiming towards. “Why am I here, John?”  

“Ah, so you want to play it like that. Okay,” John said. “You’re here because of what Mycroft had done. He took something from me or rather someone I cared about. But, you know all that. You were there after all. So now, I’m just returning the favor.” John tilted his head. “Are you really in love with him?”

Lestrade was taken aback by the question. “Are you?”

John shook his head. “That’s now how the game works, love.”

Lestrade really hated John calling him that. He wasn’t his love. “What game?”

John sighed. “I asked a question then you answered and you asked one and I answered. So now it is your turn to answer my question. Are you really in love with Mycroft?”

Lestrade leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to answer that because John should already know. Opening his eyes he found John intently staring at him and awaiting for an answer. Lestrade knew he had to be truthful or bad things happened. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?” John asked.

It was Lestrade turn to shake his head. “No, you broke your own rule. I asked a question too.”

John smiled. “So you did. Am I in love with Sherlock? Is that your question, love?”

Lestrade nodded.

“I use to be. When we first met even but he gave the excuse that he was married to his work. I knew it was just a thing he said but his actions spoke volumes. That’s when Moriarty happened. The criminal mastermind saw it too. The way Sherlock was towards me. He wanted to get to know me and why Sherlock out of everyone else…why Sherlock picked me.” A sad small crossed his face. “I never told anyone, not even Sherlock what happened in the pool’s locker room that night. While we were waiting for Sherlock to show up,” John said as he stood. “He talked for about an hour. I just sat there with the sextox vest on, cursing at myself for being so blind. I was the fifth pip. Not even Sherlock saw it. But, after that first hour he wanted me to talk and slowly I did. It was mostly to get him to not hurt me because he had a knife in his hand. I knew he’d use it. Those dark eyes of his told everything. I’d never been so afraid in my life and I knew afterwards it wasn’t over. That’s when he came for me again. He took me right from my bed. Can you even begin to imagine what that’s like?” John moved forward, sitting closer to Lestrade on the bed. He placed a hand on the Inspector’s knee causing Lestrade to tense. “It’s like the feeling you’re experiencing now. Your heart is hammering against your chest and your mind is buzzing like angry bees. Your fight or flight is battling one another but you’re frozen because you’re not sure what’s beyond that door. You’re scared beyond words because the worst part of all is you know me. I was a friend to you and a good man. You would trust me with your life and now all you want to do is live. It is hard, isn’t it? Knowing I’m going to do something to you and you will have to live with it for the rest of your life.” John squeezed Lestrade knee a little harder. “As Jimmy wants told me…I’ll be your very best nightmare, Greg.”

Lestrade turned his head to the side, closing his eyes tight while tears slowly streamed down his cheeks. He was in fact horrified beyond words, knowing John was going to hurt him. This was something he wouldn’t be able to live with. The prison incident was bad enough. Lestrade was just getting to a good place but now he wasn’t for sure if he could let Mycroft ever touch him again. This was becoming too much for him. He opened his eyes and looked at John as he said, “John, I’ve been nothing but a friend to you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”

John’s eyes narrowed on him. “Why did Moriarty zero me out when Sherlock was the one he was playing with? Why did he kidnap me when I did nothing to provoke him?”

Lestrade understood it now. It made sense and that seemed unfair even with how truthful it was. “Because of your association with Sherlock, Moriarty knew you would be the one to help cripple him.”

“And you’re just the thing to bring the Government to its knees,” John said, smiling manically. “So, tell me, love. Why are you in love with Mycroft?

Lestrade didn't want to tell him. John would just use it against Mycroft. No, he needed to hold out as long he could. "Sod off, you insufferable prick." Lestrade braced for the worst. He was ready for John to strike him where he sat but instead the blonde started to laugh. It made Lestrade feel ten times worse. "I'm glad you find me so damn amusing," Lestrade scoffed.

John waved a dismissive hand, trying to catch his breath. "It's not that," John said after he was able to catch his breath. He climbed onto to bed on his hands and knees, moving slowly towards Lestrade like a lion stalking its prey. Lestrade's eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped in disbelief. The Inspector started looking around the room in hopes for an escape but there was nothing to aid him. John moved slowly in between Lestrade's legs, placing a hand on either side of his hips and asked seductively, "Come here often?"

Lestrade actually snorted a laugh even though he didn't want too. But, it was John and it was unbelievable that this man was the same man he knew or use to know. "You're insane."

"Just getting that now are we?" John leaned back on his feet. "You're wearing too many clothes." John reached around and brought a knife into view.

Lestrade's smile faded into a frown. He couldn’t deal with this. No, he had to fight. With one swift move Lestrade kicked John’s hand but he didn’t manage for him to release the knife. Instead John was on top of him and pinning him down. "John, please don't do this."

"We can do this one of two ways, love. You do as I say and you might get to live or I'll make Mycroft watch the life leave your eyes. Now, what's it going to be?"

Lestrade shuddered. He couldn't even cope with the fact John would kill him even though he raped him in the prison. It was just something so unbelievable that it didn't make sense. "John, I know you would do many things but a murderer isn't one of them."

John sighed. "You don't know me at all." John pulled out his phone and showed Lestrade a photo of a man with half of his skin still attached to his body. John was also in the picture and was covered in blood. He looked at Lestrade's face, pleased as all color drained from his face. "This was Agent Wilkins. He was one of Mycroft's men and I had him skinned while still alive. The poor sod was begging for death but there was nothing I could do until I had enough of his skin. I left him alive for a short time until I cut his throat because I’d grown tiresome to his voice." John lowered his phone and smiled at Lestrade. "Pictures worth a thousand words, don't you think, Inspector?"

Lestrade felt the bile threatening before he had the chance to really move. He twisted hard which made John fall back onto the bed. Lestrade was hanging the front of his body off the side as he grabbed for the trash bucket beside the small table. He was violently throwing up, the sound God offal to him and worst of all he was showing weakness. However, it isn’t everyday a man you consider a good friend goes from having a pint to psychopath. If anyone would had gone insane it would had been Sherlock. Not John. When Lestrade felt like nothing else was in his stomach he just laid there. He shuddered when he felt John’s hand on his back, rubbing small circle tenderly like a concerned friend. It made him want to pull away but he felt dizzy now.

“Do you want some water?” John asked him.

Lestrade was about to tell him to fuck off but he really did need to get the nasty taste out of his mouth. He started to try and sit back up on the bed but almost fell forward. John grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back and helping him sit back against the headboard. Lestrade was panting, trying to gain some control back over what he’d seen in that picture. He looked up at John who was sitting there and staring at him with concern. Like Doctor John would be. “Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you.”

John nodded as he stood. He walked over to the door and a hand reached in with a bottle of water. When the door closed John made his way back over to the bed and sat down. He extended the bottle out to Lestrade who lifted a weak hand and took it. Lestrade opened it and slowly took a few sips. “Now, about Mycroft, why are you in love with him?”

Lestrade took a few more small sips of the water before he said, “Even though he puts on a façade of being the Iceman to those who need him to be he really isn’t like that. He is human just like Sherlock or Moriarty. They have feelings just like the rest of us.”

John glared at him. “Moriarty’s nothing like Sherlock.”

“I know,” Lestrade replied, unable to keep his eyes open. “Did you…you drugged me again.”

“Well, I did mention you did have too many clothes on,” John said.

“What…what are you going to do?” Lestrade asked worriedly.

“I’m going to strip you down and make them watch what I’m going to do to you. It’s going to be fun.”

Lestrade shook his head. “N – No you can’t…you can’t…” Lestrade let his voice drift off as he slumped over.

“Poor Greg, he won’t even know what hit him,” John said as he started to remove the Inspector’s clothes. He ran his hands all over Lestrade skin and picked up the knife. He started to cut small little cuts all over Lestrade skin. Then he began to hit him over and over to make him look like he’d be in a fight. It would make Mycroft furious.

Moran came in after John was finished and picked Lestrade up off the bed. They walked down the hall to another room where there was a chair anchored to the floor, a camera and a computer. When Moran finished strapping Lestrade to the chair and gagging him, he stepped out of frame.

“Is everything ready, Seb?” John asked.

“Yes, sir,” Moran replied. “Just as you instructed.”

“Very good,” John said. He walked over to a table and picked up a little brown bottle. He moved over to Lestrade and placed it under the Inspectors nose. Lestrade was awake in seconds.

Lestrade looked around dazed and confused why he was naked and bound, gagged with a cloth tied around the back of his head. There were bruises that started to form and small little cuts on his skin. He didn’t quite understand until he looked up and saw John standing beside a camera.

“You look so beautiful like this, love. Now smile for Mycroft,” John said.

Lestrade was looking to the side of the camera, glaring at John the moment the red light was lit.

“No need to look so angry, love,” John said to Lestrade. “We are going to have such fun.” John stepped into view of the camera but was not yet looking at the lens. “I’m going to enjoy making you scream my name.”

Lestrade said something but it was muffled by the gag.

John laughed. “I can’t understand you, love, but I don’t need to when I’m going to be listening to your screams here in the next few minutes.” That’s when John turned to face the camera. “Hello, Mycroft. I hope you’re enjoying the view. I know I am. He looks so precious like this, doesn’t he?” John moved around to stand behind Lestrade. “You know being a doctor I could break every bone in your body while naming them.” He placed his hands on Lestrade’s shoulders making the Inspector tense. “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” He laughed. “I want to play a game. Now, it is set up that if you type something I can see it.”

Lestrade tried to speak but his words continued to be muffled by the gag in his mouth. He hated that he couldn’t tell Mycroft to shut the feed down. That John was out of his mind and he didn’t want his lover to watch him die.

John sighed, rolling his eyes. “It is extremely rude to speak with a mouth full, love.” He removed the gag from Lestrade’s mouth.

The Inspector looked right at the camera and said, “Turn it off, Mycroft. Please, for the love of God, don’t watch this.”

John hit Lestrade hard in the back of the head. “Speak when spoken to,” he snapped. He grabbed a hand full of Lestrade’s silver hair, yanking hard. It made Lestrade hiss in pain. “Or I’ll turn this into something much worst then planned.”

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but something made him paused. He could only imagine what Mycroft was telling him to do or even Sherlock. They probably were telling him to keep his mouth shut which would be in his best interest. He closed his mouth and just sat there.

“Good boy,” John praised, releasing Lestrade’s head. Moran motioned to him about them trying to hack into their system to find their location but it wouldn’t work. He turned his gaze back to the camera. “Nice try, Mycroft, but the link is untraceable. You’ll never find him unless I want you too.”

There was moment of silence until John saw a message pop up onto the computer screen.

_“You can have me if you let him go.”_

“Would you look at that, Greg? Mycroft is willing to give himself to me for your freedom,” John said.

Lestrade shook his head. “No, Mycroft you can’t…”

John sighed and punched Lestrade in the stomach. “What did I say, Greg?” He smiled as Lestrade gasped for breath. “Was I talking to myself? I don’t think I was. Really, Greg, I see why Sherlock gets so annoyed with you.”

There was another message that popped up onto the screen. John thought it would be Mycroft but it wasn’t. It was Sherlock.

_“John, if you let Lestrade go, I’m yours.”_

John smiled at the words and said, “Well now, that is a very tempting offer, Sherlock. One I might be willing to work with.” John looked back at Lestrade before turning back to the camera. “Give me a little time to think on it. I promise I won’t keep you waiting for long.” He blew a kiss to the camera before Moran turned off the feed.

"What did he say?" Lestrade asked.

John slowly turned around to face Lestrade, a manic grin on his face. "Our beloved Sherlock wants to trade himself for you." 

Lestrade's eyes grew wide, shocked that Mycroft would even allow such a thing. "You can't."

John's face burrowed as he smiled, surprised Lestrade would think is opinion mattered. "Who's to say I can't? You? Mycroft? Sherlock is a grown man, Greg; he can do whatever he damn well please."

"I won't allow it," Lestrade spat. "You have me. This is about Mycroft and hurting me. There is no reason to bring Sherlock into this."

John moved forward, invading Lestrade's personal space. He was looming over him as he said, "Don't be stupid, Greg. You know as well as I do how important Sherlock is to Mycroft. Sure I had no intention of kidnapping Sherlock but the more I think about turning Sherlock against Mycroft the more intriguing it sounds."

Lestrade glared up at John. He hated he was bound because right now he'd do all he could to make sure that didn't happen, that Sherlock wouldn't come anywhere near this maniac. “No, I won’t stand for this.”

John laughed. “I don’t think you have much of a choice in this, Greg.” John turned back to the camera. “I do believe I’ve made up my mind. Be a peach, Seb, and turn the camera back on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It is a little short but there is more to come. I have a convention I am going to this next weekend in Oklahoma City. It will be a lot of fun. Thank you for reading.

Sherlock stood over by the window in Lestrade's office, peering out over the streets of London. It was night but Sherlock paid no mind, lost in his mind palace, taping his fingers against his leg to the Rhythm of one of John's favorite songs he'd played for him on his violin. It was called Moonlight by Beethoven. The song helped sooth John late nights after one of his night terrors. It made this all so much harder to cope with. The fact of John being psychotic like Moriarty was preposterous. But, the  evidence was clear. And it was all his fault. For befriending John all these unspeakable horrors had befallen on his friend - his only friend. Now, he wanted to make things right. Even if it has all gone to shit. Sherlock owed John that much. To give himself and to force the blame where it belonged instead of making all others suffer for his mistake. This was him changing the out come. Removing Lestrade and Mycroft out of the equation and forcing John to choose. Taking him would still hurt Mycroft but at least Lestrade would be safe. That was the most important thing, wasn't it?

*****

Before Moran turned the camera back on Lestrade begged, “You can't be serious, John. This isn't about Sherlock. It's about Mycroft and me."

"Well, someone has a high opinion of themselves, don't they?" John mused.

"John, please," Lestrade begged. "Jesus Christ, what happened to you? What did Moriarty do to make you like this?"

John didn't turn to Lestrade as he murmured, "Nothing made me like this, Greg." He turned to Lestrade, a manic grin on his face. "I made me like this."

*****

Sherlock didn't hear the door open and close, nor the footsteps coming closer until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Mycroft?" Sherlock snapped, pulling his arm away. "Can't you see I'm in my mind palace?"

Mycroft sighed, letting his arm fall to his side. "Sherlock, you can't do this."

Sherlock snorted. "You need to watch your diet, Brother mine. Seems you put on a few pounds."

"For Christ sakes, Sherlock, be serious for once in your life."

"No," Sherlock spat, turning on his heels to face his brother. "You don't get to decided in this manner, Mycroft. The out come is as it stands."

"And prey tell how you see this ending," Mycroft asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that," Sherlock sneered. He turned back to the window as all thoughts turned back to John.

*****

John was thinking of a time he’d walked into the flat and found Sherlock laying on the couch. The Consulting Detective’s eyes were closed but his hands were pressed together in from of his mouth. John knew the younger man was in his mind palace, thinking of only God knows what. They didn’t have a case at that time so John didn’t know what he was thinking about. That was until he turned and started to walk away when Sherlock shot out a hand, grabbing onto John’s arm. 

_“John, I have an experiment I want to try out,” Sherlock said.”_

_John sighed. “What is it this time? You better not drug me again.”_

_Sherlock stood as he said, “No, nothing like that.” He walked over to John’s laptop and hit a button. The sound of violin music began to fill the sitting room. Sherlock walked over to John and stood before him. “Put your hand on my hip.”_

_John began to blink rapidly as he stammered, “Ex…excuse me, what?”_

_Sherlock huffed. “Don’t be boring, John.” Sherlock grabbed John’s right hand and placed it on his own hip. Then he placed one around John and took his other hand in his own._

_“Sherlock…” John strained, his face turning red._

_“Indulge me, John. Like I said this is for an experiment.” Sherlock stepped forward which forced John to step back. Then Sherlock stepped to the side and it took John a moment to realize he needed to mimic Sherlock’s actions. Both men brought their feet together and Sherlock smiled down at him. “Again but this time I’ll step back and you step forward,” Sherlock said. John nodded and stepped forward when Sherlock took a step back. Both men stepped to the side, the other leg slowly come to meet the other. “Very good, John.”_

_When the music finally stopped playing, neither man made a move to release the other. They just stood there looking into the other eyes. Finally John decided to speak. “So, is your experiment a success then?”_

_Sherlock smiled down at him. “I believe the results were surprisingly helpful.”_

_“How so?” John asked._

_“I have further knowledge that in this case would be better to show you what I found to be conclusive.”_

_Sherlock took John’s face into his hands and before John released what was happening Sherlock’s lips were on his own. When Sherlock pulled away John was still in a state of shock. “Are you all right, John?”_

_John cleared his throat. “Yeah, that was…good.”_

_“Would you like me to do it again?” Sherlock asked._

_“Oh God, yes,” John said._

  The memory was one John would never forget. It made him smile until Moriarty’s face crossed his mind. In some way in made him feel like he was cheating on the criminal mastermind, as stupid as it sounded. He loved Jim. The six months he’d been with the man was more than Sherlock and him had spent together not to mention the sex was fucking unbelievable.

_John was wearing a black leather collar with metal studs. His face was against the bed and his ass was in the air, legs spread by a spender bar, his arm were bound behind him, and his cock was hard as an iron bar. He kept his face turned so he was able to breathe every time one of Moriarty’s hard thrusts slammed into him. “That’s my good little doggie,” Moriarty grunted. “You really do love, Daddy, don’t you?”_

_“Yes, I do,” John replied. He moaned when Moriarty’s cock pressed against his prostate._

_“No, pet. That is not what you say,” Moriarty said disappointedly. He picked up riding crop and slapped it hard against John’s arse. John yelped and bucked his hips which forced Moriarty’s cock deeper into him. “Mmmm, yes. Now, say it right, pet.”_

_John groaned louder when Moriarty’s cock pressed against his prostate again. “Yes, Daddy, I do. Fuck. Oh, fuck me, Daddy. Please.”_

_“Will you be a good boy for me?” Moriarty asked._

_“Yes, Daddy. I will. I promise. I’ll be a good boy for you.” John screamed when Moriarty began to slam harder into him and hitting his prostate with each thrust. “Fuck yes, Daddy. Oh, yes. Getting closer.”_

_“Then Daddy gives his sweet boy permission to cum,” Moriarty growled into John’s ear._

_“Yes, Daddy,” John moaned as it only took two more thrusts before he came without Moriarty even touching him. “Fuck me, Daddy.”_

_“As you wish, my darling.” Moriarty began to thrust faster which made John continue to scream and moan. It forced Moriarty’s own release and he came hard inside the blonde. Afterwards he slowly pulled out and forced in a butt plug. “You are not allowed to remove this. Do you understand me, pet? I own you. So, now a part of me is inside you and there it will stay.”_

_John shuddered at the thought of Moriarty’s cum being trapped inside him. It was actually thrilling to think about. “Okay, Daddy, I will not remove it.”_

_Moriarty kissed John’s scar on his back and said, “That’s my boy.” Moriarty untied John and began to rub his aching muscles until John drifted off to sleep._

Both men may have been the same in some ways but in others they were nothing alike. Why couldn’t he have had both of them? It seemed unfair but it didn’t matter anymore. John knew what he was going to do. He turned to the camera and said, “Sherlock, I have an answer for you.”

*****

“Sherlock, obviously anything I have left to say has crossed your mind. You will not listen to reason so I must say…” Mycroft was cut off as Donovan opened the door.

“John’s back on the screen. He has an answer for you,” she said.

“Thank you, Donovan. I’ll be right out,” Sherlock said, not making a move towards the door just yet. When she closed the door Sherlock turned to Mycroft and said, “This is the way it must be.”

Mycroft turned his back on Sherlock and began to open the door. “Sherlock, I told you once your loss would break my heart. I meant it,” Mycroft said over this shoulder before he walked out the door.

Sherlock stood there dumbfounded for a moment before he gathered himself and headed out the door. He stepped up behind Anderson who was still sitting at the desk so he could get a good view of the screen. Lestrade didn’t seem any worse for wear which was a good sign. It meant John was more than likely going to take him up on his offer. Sherlock pushed Anderson to the side and typed a message out.

_I’m here, John. What is your decision?_

John smiled at the screen. “My decision on rather I want to keep Greg or if I want to trade him for you. Is that what we are discussing?”

Sherlock huffed as he started to type again.

_You know very well that is what I am referring too. Don’t be dense, John._

“Really, Sherlock? Name calling? How do you suppose that makes me feel? Hmmm?” John stepped out of view of the screen and walked back in with a large knife in hand. “I think I should just keep him instead. He does make the most beautiful noses when he screams.” John turned and walked behind Lestrade. The blonde places the knife against the DI’s chest and sliced across his chest, blood oozing from the wound.

Lestrade hissed from the pain but when John pulled the knife away he looked right at the camera and said, “Sherlock, I won’t let you do this. I can’t. There might not be any hope left for John but there is still for you. And besides Mycroft needs you.”

Sherlock started to type out another message and hit enter.

_No. He doesn’t need me. He needs you. I’ve made my choice. John where do you want to make the trade?_

John smiled at the words on the screen. “It’s funny, Sherlock, how you just assume I’d take you over Greg. But, maybe you do know me a little more than most. How about Roland-Kerr College? I am sure you know where. Midnight. Only you and Mycroft, no one else. See you then.” That’s when the screen went black.

Sherlock looked at his watch and he still had two hours before the meeting but there was no telling what John would do to Lestrade in the time. He turned and headed for the door.

Mycroft reached out and grabbed for Sherlock’s arm. “Where are you going? He said both of us.”

“I know what he said, Mycroft. I do not have a hearing problem,” Sherlock snapped, pulling his arm away.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Mycroft said.

“Us too,” Donovan said.

Both Holmes glared at her.

“Or not,” she murmured.

Mycroft turned back to Sherlock. “What is your plan?”

“I’m going alone,” Sherlock said.

“You can’t. He said for both of us to go. So, I’m going too.”

“Fine but don’t get in my way, Mycroft,” Sherlock huffed. Sherlock turned and stormed off with Mycroft close on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Thank you so much for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter. I am kind of turning it around. The WTF factor is there at the end.

When Mycroft pulled the car up to the side of Roland-Kerr College he looked up and saw a lone light on up on the second story of the building. “That’s the room isn’t it? Where you and the cabbie faced off?”

“You make it sound like a show down,” Sherlock said annoyingly.

“You do have a flare for being dramatic,” Mycroft replied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Do shut up, Mycroft," Sherlock grumbled. "Let's not forget why we are here."

"Agreed," Mycroft replied.

“Are Anthea and your men standing by?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course they are,” Mycroft stated bluntly.

“Good. Now, just follow my lead,” Sherlock said.

They both stepped out of the car and entered the building. Slowly they climbed the stairs and came to a door where there was a glow shining from underneath the door.

Sherlock placed a hand on the doorknob and turned. The door slowly opened and there sitting in the same chair the cabbie once sat was Lestrade. Standing behind him with his hands on the DI's shoulders was John.

"Mycroft. Sherlock," John said, with a slight head nod. “Glad you could finally join us.”

"John," Sherlock said, stepping into the room. Mycroft stepped in behind his brother and released the door, letting it fall closed behind them. “It’s good to see you too.”

"Always the liar, Sherlock, but I give you points for trying,” John mused. “Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, why don't we have a chat about how this trade is going to happen," John said.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John. “Not before I know for sure.” Sherlock looked at Lestrade and said, “All right?”

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but John’s hands tighten on his shoulders. “The Inspector is fine. I didn’t _hurt_ him.”

“I’d much rather hear it from him,” Sherlock said.

John sighed. “Fine.” He leaned down next to Lestrade’s ear and said, “It’s alright, Greg. You may speak.”

Lestrade looked up at Sherlock and only gave a head nod, clearly too afraid of an invisible threat that neither Holmes could see. It made Sherlock feel uneasy that John could hold that much power over Lestrade that the DI couldn’t speak.

“You see. He is fine. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?” John insisted as his hands lifted up and began to run through Lestrade’s hair. “Never realized how soft your hair was, Greg. Maybe I should have held onto it as I fucked you back in the prison.”

Mycroft took a stepped forwards but Sherlock quickly placed a hand on his brother’s chest to top him. “No, Mycroft,” Sherlock warned.

“That’s right, Mycroft. Listen to your little brother because he knows. Don’t you, Sherlock?” John gripped onto Lestrade’s hair and pulled back slightly, exposing the DI’s neck. “The things I did to him. You can see it, can’t you? The moment you walked into the room you scanned him and deduced just like you always do.” John licked Lestrade neck forcing the DI to shudder.

Sherlock’s face was deadpan. He didn’t want to show how disgusted he was at the display nor did he want to play into John’s hand. “How about you let Mycroft and Lestrade walk free and when they are gone you and I will leave?” Sherlock said, taking a step closer to the table.

John smiled manically and said, “Tempting but here is my counter proposal.”

Lestrade suddenly gasped and it took Sherlock a moment to understand what was happening. He followed the DI’s gaze as he turned and saw a red laser dot on Mycroft’s forehead. Sherlock turned around to face John. “Don’t,” Sherlock said sternly.

“Why?” John asked, walking slowly over to stand in front of Sherlock. He looked up into those dark blue green eyes and said, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rid him of his pathetic existence. And don’t try to say it’s because I wouldn’t. I’m a fucking army doctor. I killed people so tell me, Sherlock. Why should I spare him when he took something I cared about away from me?”

Sherlock stood there a moment and looked into those dark blue orbs starting back at him. Those weren’t the same eyes of the man he had once known. No, those where the eyes of a killer with no regrets. Sherlock wasn’t for sure if talking to John would actually do any good. John was a man of action so when it was finally clear to him, Sherlock slowly lifted his right hand and placed it on John’s cheek. Then he lifted the other and cupped John’s face in his hands, leaning in slowly. When their lips touched Sherlock half expected for John to pull away but to his surprise the doctor remained still. Sherlock’s hands began to slowly move down John’s neck to his shirt and he pulled the doctor’s body against his own. John bit lightly at Sherlock’s mouth and the Detective opened his mouth to let John’s tongue slip inside. It was a battle of dominance but in the end Sherlock let John claim him because it was nothing like he’d ever felt before. “John,” Sherlock moaned and in that moment it almost felt like old times.

But, as fast as it happened it was suddenly gone. John pushed Sherlock away from him and snarled,” That’s enough.” He walked back over to Lestrade, gripping a hand full of silver hair and yanking hard. Lestrade let out a cry of pain, whimpering softly under his breath. “No tricks,” John hissed at Sherlock.

“John, I haven’t stopped caring about you,” Sherlock said softly. “No matter how far you fall I’ll be there beside you. Either to catch you or fall with you because I love you, John Watson.”

John stood there like he was fighting against something within his mind, a conflict of emotions towards the man standing before him, perhaps? Finally, John said, “Sherlock, you and I will leave and wants we are safely away then Mycroft and Greg are free to go.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Sherlock asked.

“Because, unlike Jim I keep my deals,” John replied. “You should know.”

Sherlock nodded. He did know John well enough that the doctor wasn’t as changeable as Moriarty had been. John was a man of his word but he still knew he couldn’t let his once best friend walk out of here. “Alright,” Sherlock said as he motioned towards the door. “Shall we press on then?”

“Sherlock, please,” Lestrade begged. John pulled harder on his hair making Lestrade whimper. “You can’t do this, John. Please, don’t take him.”

“Take me,” Mycroft offered.

“Shut it, Mycroft. You have no say in the matter as I stated prior,” Sherlock hissed.

“You’re not the one who destroyed his plan,” Mycroft inquired.

“I’m expendable,” Lestrade said.

“Shut up, Lestrade,” Both Holmes said at the same time.

“I’m not going to stand by and let you through your life away,” Mycroft said.

“But, he is my friend. I was the one that brought him into this mess. If anyone is at fault it is me,” Sherlock insisted.

“Enough,” John snapped. All eyes turned to John as the doctor’s gaze fixed on Sherlock. “You think what happened to me is your fault?”

“Well, yes,” Sherlock said. “You were safe before you met me, John. Then you became a target to one of the world’s master criminals because you befriended me. That monster tortured you and changed you because he knew it would cripple me.” Sherlock moved towards John but the doctor pulled back slightly on Lestrade’s hair making the DI hiss in pain. Sherlock stopped short of reaching out and touching his friend. “I’m sorry, John. I was so blinded by pride and to damn arrogant that I didn’t see what I should have seen.”

John cleared his throat and said, “What were you meant to see?”

“You,” Sherlock replied. Sherlock grabbed John and pushed him back against the table. He grabbed onto the doctor’s wrists and penned them up above his head.

“Moran, do it now,” John shouted but nothing happened. John tilted his head to look back at Mycroft. The red dot was no longer on the elder Holmes forehead. “No,” John screamed as he started to struggle. It took Lestrade to hold onto John’s legs, Mycroft grabbed onto John’s wrists and Sherlock kept his body penned against John so he couldn’t move. “I’ll kill you for this, Holmes,” John hissed as he struggled to free himself.

“John, stop this,” Sherlock said. “You need help.”

John glared up at the Detective. “No, what I need is to get you alone.” John smiled a sinister smile. “The things I’m going to do to you, Sherlock. Oh, I’m going to make you regret this moment.”

Just then a team of Mycroft’s men rushed into the room and took John into custody.

“You’re going to regret this, Sherlock. I swear it,” John shouted as they escorted him out of the room.

Sherlock shuddered and kept his back turned until John was no longer in the room.

Mycroft rushed over to Lestrade. “Are you alright?”

“I’m better now,” Lestrade said as he stood and embraced Mycroft.

“Sir,” Anthea said as she walked into the room.

Mycroft pulled back but didn’t release Lestrade as he turned his attention to her. “Did you find him?”

“No, sir. He wasn’t in the room when we entered. No one saw anyone leave,” she said.

“He has to be here,” Sherlock insisted.

“Who?” Greg asked.

“Moran,” Mycroft replied. “He’s gone.”

“Well, we need to find him,” Lestrade said.

“We can’t,” Mycroft said. “He is a ghost just like Moriarty was.”

“So, what do we do?” Lestrade asked.

“We make him come to us,” Sherlock said. He turned to Mycroft who seemed to have the same knowing smile on his face.

“Would someone care to elaborate?” Lestrade huffed.

“John,” Sherlock stated suddenly. “We use John.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Lestrade asked.

“Just leave that to me,” Sherlock turned and headed out the door.

*****

Moran entered a four digit code into the safe house key pad. When the alarm went off he entered and flipped the light on. He placed his gun on the kitchen table and turned, punching the wall. He was screaming because the Holmes brothers took out more of his men. Moran almost didn’t make it himself but what was even worse was the fact that they had John. His boss promised him to keep John safe. The only thing he ever really relied on him to do and he fucked it up. All of it. Now, he was breathing hard as he stared at the hole in the wall he just created. His knuckles were bleeding as he sat down and placed them over his face because he was at a loss.

“No need to look so sad, tiger.”

Moran jumped up, pulled his gun from his waist band and pointed it at the figure standing in the doorway. “You have 5 seconds…4...3…2…”

“Whoa, easy there, big guy, it’s me.” Moriarty stepped forward into the light so Moran could see him. “Daddy’s home.”

Moran narrowed his eyes at the crazed madman standing before him. “I must be losing my mind.”

Moriarty smiled at him. “Not at all,” he murmured as he stepped forward. He lightly placed a hand on Moran’s hand holding the gun. Moriarty pulled Moran forward, placing the gun against his chest. “It was just a trick, Sebby, but I will not be angry if you pull that trigger. I’d understand.”

Moran stared into the dark black eyes that looked as dark as the night sky. There was no question it wasn’t Moriarty but the fact of the matter was, how? How could he be alive when everyone saw him die? “Why did you do this?”

“It was the only way,” Moriarty replied. “John needed to be pushed over the edge and this was the only way it would happen.”

“So you planned for the gun that Mycroft fired to be rigged?” Moran asked.

“Indeed, I did. I took a drug to make my heart almost stop and the blood was really mine. Hand it drawn from me and placed in the freeze so when the fake patch exploded - the way it was suppose to - it would really be my blood.” Moriarty smiled big and Moran. “It was so easy to do. Johnny was such a good boy, turning to the dark side as he did.” Moriarty looked around. “Speaking of Johnny, where is he?”

Moran stepped back and lowered his gun. “I’m sorry, sir, but the Holmes brothers over powered us. I miscalculated and now…they have him.”  

Moriarty looked displeased. “Ah, well we need to get him back then, won’t we, Sebby?”

“How?” Moran asked.

Moriarty smiled as he said, “They are going to try and lure you out using Johnny as bait. We need to make sure they believe it has worked and when they believe they have you cornered I’ll come in with my web and pick them off one at a time.”

Moran smiled at him. “Do you want me to tell John your alive?”

Moriarty shook his head. “Oh, Sebby, where is the fun in that? Let’s make it big. Let’s make it loud. Let’s make sure that they burn for taking what is mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
